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THF  AlVfAynN^  Farce  in  Tliree  Acts.  Seven  males,  five  fe- 
in£t  /\lTl/xLiV/likj  mains.  Costumes,  modern;  scenery,  not 
difficult.     Plays  a  full  evening. 

TUr  PAnilMrT  1\/IIMKTI7P  Farce  in  Four  Acts.  Ten 
inc.  LAdIIIE.1  lYIlnldlCtV  males,  nine  females.  Cs 
tumes,  modern  society;  scenery,  throe  interiors.  Plays  af  ull evening. 

nANHY  niPlf  Farce  in  Three  Acts.  Seven  males,  four  fe- 
MJt\nUl  l/ivIV  males.  Costumes,  modern;  scenery,  two  inte- 
riors.   Plays  two  hours  and  a  half. 

TH17  PAY  f  HRn  HTTFY  Comedy  in  Four  Acts.  Fourmales, 
lll£i  U/\l  JLVIVl/  V4UE1A  ten  females.  Costumes,  modern; 
scenery,  two  interiors  and  an  exterior.    I'lays  a  full  evening. 

U1C  Um  TCr  I1M  nOnrD  comedy  in  Four  Acts.  Nine  males, 
niO  nUUJ£i  111  UnUCiIV  four  f.?males.  Costumes,  modern; 
scenery,  three  interiors.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

TUr  UnnUV  UnDCr  comedy  in  Three  Acts.  Ten  males, 
inCi  riUDDI  nUlVOE.  tlve  females.  Costumes,  modern; 
scenery  easy.    Plays  two  hours  and  a  half. 

iniC  Drama  in  Five  Acis.  Seven  marfe-s,  seven  females.  Costumes, 
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I  IflY  RniTNTIFITI  Play  in  Four  Acts.  Eight  males,  seven 
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ery, four  interiors,  not  easy.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

I  FTTY  ^^i^ama  in  Four  Acts  and  an  Epilogue.  Ten  males,  five 
LiCl  1  1  females.  Costumes,  modern;  scenery  complicated. 
Plays  a  full  evening. 

TUP  MAflQTP  ATIT  Farce  in  Three  Acts.  Twelve  males, 
inCt  m/\VlliJ  1 1\/\  1  d  four  fenjfiles.  Costumes,  modern; 
scenery,  all  interior.    Plays  two  hours  and  a  half. 


Sent  prepaid  on  receipt  of  price  by 

Walttt  ^.  Pafeer  &  Companp 

No.  5  Hamilton  Place,  Boston,  Massachusetts 


The  District  Attorney 

A  Comedy  Drama  in  Three  Acts 


By 
ORRIN  E.  WILKINS 

V 


Originally  produced  by  The   Weldon  Club^  in  Highland  Hally 

Roxbury^  Mass.^  May  j,  /p/^,  under  the  direction- 

of  the  author  and  Mr.  Harry  H.  Briggs 


NOTE 

This  play  may  be  performed  by  amateurs  free  of  royalty  and  without 
express  permission.  The  professional  stage-rights  are,  however,  strictly 
reserved,  and  performance  by  professional  actors,  given  in  advertised  places 
of  amusement  and  for  profit,  is  forbidden.  Persons  who  may  wish  to  produce 
this  play  publicly  and  professionally  should  apply  to  the  author  in  care  of 
the  publishers. 


BOSTON 

WALTER  H.  BAKER  &  CO. 
1912 


The  District  Attorney 


•   J  .%,  CHAR^CCERS 

Mr.  Wm.  SEABiJiCT/Pr^L' of.  s/ai^ary' Pack- 
ing Ql.     ....     ....    ,^ ...  .     ..      ,  .  P  -B.  Phinney. 

Mr.  H erbert '.  KRO.VfttE'LL,  'j'kporteK  "qfthe 

"  T/tbUnc,^,'  •.•;*•.''.::,.:  ■/•.*.  •.•*.  John  E.  Harvey. 

Richard  Seabury,  senior  at  college  .        .  Edwin  C.  Archibald, 

Bob  Kendrick,  a  fixture  at  the  university  .  Orrin  E.  Wilkins. 

Billy  Reynolds, /rw^waw  at  college         .  Guy  Hubbard. 

P.  Homer  Sullivaij, />olitician  .        .        .  Albert  F.  Fedel, 

John  J.  Crosby,  district  attorney,  running 

for  reelection Stanley  Maclnnis. 

Jimmie,  ofifce  boy Ertiest  Pickett. 

Howard  Calvert,  Beverly  s  little  brother  .  Douglas  Addie. 

Sam,  Calvert" s  butler Henry  D.  PovcUL 

Aunt  Hattie,  IVm.  Seabury  s  sister  ,        .  Benha  Sands. 

Dorothy     Seabury,      Wm.      Seabury  s 

daughter Marion  Sawyer. 

Beverly  Calvert,  ]  f  Violet  French. 

Peggy  Marshall,    V  Dorothy  s  chums       .  -j  Gretchen  Rose, 

Polly  Whitney,      ]  (  Florence  Smith, 

Margaret,  servant Grace  Lawson. 


SYNOPSIS 

Act  I.     Drawing-room  of  the  Seabury  residence. 
Act  n.     The  district  attorney's  office,  a  few  months  later. 
Act  hi.     Same  as  Act  I,  one  year  later. 
Time. — Present. 


^^ 


Place. — Chicago. 


^.  1 1 


^^ 


Copyright,  191 2,  by  Orrin  E.  Wilkins 
As  author  and  proprietor 


Professional  stage-rights  reserved 


CHARACTERS  AND  CHARACTERISTICS 

"The  District  Attorney"  was  written  especially  for  amateurs. 
The  author  has  kept  in  mind  the  scenic  and  stage  limitations  of  the 
ordinary  amateur  club.  The  properties  are  few  and  simple,  and 
the  costumes  such  that  any  group  of  young  people  either  have  or 
can  easily  procure.  As  the  play  has  been  produced  three  times 
and  rewritten  twice,  all  useless  and  unimportant  speeches  and  parts 
have  been  omitted,  with  the  result  that  each  character  offers  an 
opportunity  limited  only  by  the  time  and  study  one  is  willing  to  put 
into  it.  In  view  of  this  the  author  feels  that  a  word  about  each 
character  will  not  be  amiss. 

Margaret. — An  ordinary  type  of  servant  that  is  often  seen  upon 
the  professional  stage.  Of  medium  height,  about  twenty-three  years 
old,  courteous  in  manner  and  speech.  She  wears  a  plain  black 
dress  with  white  tea  apron  and  cap. 

Wm.  Seabury. — A  dignified,  prepossessing  business  man  of 
about  fifty.  Quick  in  speech  and  manner  and  inclined  to  be  rather 
curt.  He  is  ever  aware  of  the  dignity  of  his  position  and  the  power 
that  is  his.  He  is  one  who  is  always  sure  of  himself  even  at  his 
last  exit  in  Act  II.  He  does  not  show  the  white  feather,  but  knows 
exactly  what  course  he  is  to  pursue.  In  each  act  he  wears  a  plain 
dark  business  suit,  adding  an  overcoat  and  derby  in  Act  II. 

Herbert  Brownell. — A  breezy  reporter  whose  chief  business 
is  to  get  news.  He  must  be  quick  of  speech  and  portray  to  his 
audience  that  he  is  able  to  take  advantage  of  every  httle  clue  or 
point  that  will  lead  up  to  a  newsy  story  for  his  paper.  On  the  other 
hand  he  must  not  give  the  impression  that  he  is  bold  or  forward. 
He  must  not  be  over  twenty-five  years  of  age.  In  Acts  I  and  II 
he  makes  a  change  of  ordinary  street  clothes,  adding  an  over- 
coat and  derby  in  Act  II.  In  Act  III  he  wears  a  suit  of  dark 
clothes  or  a  dress  suit. 

Aunt  Hattie. — A  middle-aged  woman  about  forty-five.  One 
who  has  taken  upon  herself  the  duties  and  responsibilities  of  the 
home.  She  is  both  aunt  and  mother  to  Dorothy  and  Dick.  The 
character  offers  a  chance  to  show  home  love  and  home  ties.  She 
is  a  sort  of  go-between  for  Dick,  Dorothy  and  Mr.  Seabury.  Her 
costume  in  Act  I  is  a  neat,  simple  house  dress,  and  she  carries 
knitting.  In  Act  II,  an  afternoon  walking-suit  with  hat,  gloves  and 
veil.     In  Act  III  an  evening  gown. 

Dorothy  Seabury.— She  should  be  a  young  lady  of  athletic 
build,  possessing  a  stylish  appearance,  and  be  pleasing  in  manner 
and  voice.  She  is  about  twenty-five  years  old  and  must  be  able  to 
rise  to  the  occasion  in  Act  I  where  she  describes  the  football  game. 
In  Act  I  her  left  arm  is  in  a  sling.     She  wears  in  Act  I  a  stylish 


ivi202490 


.:  f :  9HAkj^iTEk^*«ANa  characteristics 

'*  •-•  •    ••     •••••• 

,,  .*,*     ••••••    •  • 

house  dress ;  in  Act  II  a  walking-suit  with  furs,  large  hat  and 

gloves  ;  in  the  first  part  of  Act  III  an  afternoon  dress,  and  in  the  last 

part  an  evening  gown. 

Richard  Seabury. — A  young  man  of  twenty-one  years  of  age. 
The  world  owes  him  a  Uving  and  he's  out  to  collect  it.  His  idea 
is  that  all  events  that  he  comes  in  contact  with  are  arranged  for 
his  particular  pleasure  and  ends.  He,  like  all  the  young  men  of 
the  play,  should  be  breezy  and  snappy.  Any  person  who  portrays 
a  college  character  in  any  but  a  snappy  way  deserves  the  criticism 
of  the  audience.  His  clothes  should  be  of  the  college  cut,  em- 
phasized by  bright  ties,  socks  and  handkerchiefs.  In  Acts  I  and  II 
an  ordinary  suit,  adding  in  Act  II  automobile-coat,  goggles,  hat 
and  gloves.     In  Act  III,  a  dress  suit. 

Bob  Kendrick. — In  Act  I,  a  young  man  without  any  definite 
purpose  in  life  other  than  football.  He  must  be  of  stocky  build, 
about  twenty-six  years  old,  and  should  be  of  opposite  complexion 
to  the  girl  lead.  After  he  arouses  himself  in  the  latter  part  of  Act  I, 
all  his  acting  must  be  done  in  a  forceful,  determined  manner.  He 
is  a  gentleman  and  handles  his  strong  scenes  and  situations  with 
the  control  born  of  good  breeding.  His  costumes  should  be  of  the 
styles  of  Dick's  in  Act  I,  with  sweater  and  college  paraphernalia 
and  suit-case.  In  Act  II  it  should  give  way  to  a  dark  business 
suit,  derby  and  overcoat,  and  dress  suit  in  Act  III. 

Billy  Reynolds.— Pleasingly  plump,  the  fatter  the  better.  He 
is  the  butt  of  all  jokes,  who  takes  life  as  if  it  was  forced  upon  him 
and  he  had  to  make  the  best  of  it.  When  he  speaks  of  love  it  is 
with  the  fire  of  a  foreigner.  At  other  times  he  should  be  slow  and 
deliberate  of  speech.  He  wears  a  walking-suit  in  Act  I,  adding 
automobile-coat,  goggles,  hat  and  gloves  in  Act  II,  and  a  dress  suit 
in  Act  III. 

Beverly  Calvert. — Dorothy's  older  girl  friend.  Of  Southern 
birth  and  about  twenty-five  years  of  age.  As  a  Southerner  she  is 
always  conscious  of  the  dignity  of  her  position  and  somewhat  re- 
served. She  wears  in  Act  I  an  ordinary  walking-suit  with  hat  and 
gloves.  In  the  first  part  of  Act  III,  a  simple  house  dress.  In  last 
part  bride's  dress. 

Peggy  Marshall  and  Polly  Whitney. — Dorothy's  younger 
girl  friends,  about  eighteen  or  nineteen  years  old,  frivolous,  whim- 
sical, impulsive,  overrunning  with  life.  Each  should  be  as  much 
like  the  other  as  if  they  were  twins.  They  should  be  of  the  same 
height,  build  and  complexion.  Their  costumes  are  such  as  are 
suited  to  their  age  and  temperament ;  a  Norfolk  suit  with  a  waist 
having  frills  and  laces  in  Acts  I  and  II,  and  an  evening  gown  in 
Act  III. 

P.  Homer  Sullivan. — About  forty-five  years  of  age.  He  speaks 
with  a  slight  Irish  brogue.  He  is  the  boss,  and  he  knows  it,  and 
wants  everybody  else  to  know  it.  He  should  be  of  good  height 
and  build.  One  who  can  smoke  long  and  fast,  quick,  impulsive, 
almost  insulting  in  his  manner,  but  who  pretends  to  be  a  gentle- 


CHARACTERS    AND    CHARACTERISTICS  5 

man.  This  character  is  one  of  the  most  important  in  the  whole 
play.  His  clothes  throughout  the  play  can  be  built  loose  and  loud. 
A  red  tie  and  green  vest  under  a  checkered  suit  is  suggested  for 
Act  I  ;  something  along  the  same  nature  for  Act  II,  with  a  tall  hat 
and  overcoat.  In  Act  III  his  clothes  should  be  less  loud  and  his 
manner  less  offensive. 

John  J.  Crosby. — An  ordinary  type  of  a  disappointed  political 
aspirant.  About  thirty-two  years  old,  light  moustache,  of  slight 
build  and  medium  height.  While  he  knows  what  he  wants  to  do, 
he  is  not  dead  sure  of  his  ground ;  particularly  is  this  true  in  his 
scenes  with  SuUivan.  Until  just  before  his  exit  he  adds  determina- 
tion to  his  speech.  In  Act  I  he  wears  a  business  suit,  with  change 
in  Act  II. 

JiMMiE. — About  sixteen  years  old.  A  hard  guy,  whose  chief 
ambition  is  dime  novels,  cigarettes  and  ball  games.  He  wears  a 
light  blouse  with  short  trousers. 

Howard  Calvert. — Beverly's  young  brother,  about  ten  or 
twelve  years  old.  Care  should  be  taken  not  to  have  this  character 
too  old.  It  is  the  part  of  a  little  boy  and  should  be  played  as  such. 
He  should  be  bright  but  not  forward.  In  first  part  of  act  he  should 
wear  an  ordinary  school  suit,  with  change  in  the  last  part  to  a  dress- 
up  suit. 

Sam.  Calvert's  colored  butler.  A  retiring  darkey,  of  middle 
age,  who  laughs  long  and  loud.  He  should  use  negro  dialect  and 
totter  when  he  walks.     He  wears  an  ordinary  butler's  livery. 

As  this  is  a  college  play,  in  Act  I  college  sweaters  for  the  boys, 
with  football  suits,  flags,  pennants  and  flyers  for  the  girls,  will  add 
to  the  play. 

"The  District  Attorney"  is  different  from  other  plays  in  that 
while  elaborate  scenery,  costumes  and  stage  settings  add  to  it  the 
same  as  to  other  plays,  they  are  not  absolutely  essential  and  must 
be  determined  in  each  individual  case  by  the  facilities  at  hand  and 
the  expense  to  which  the  producing  club  wishes  to  go,  the  price 
ranging  from  twenty  dollars  when  produced  in  a  church  to  one 
hundred  and  thirty  dollars  at,  say,  Potter  Hall,  in  Boston.  The 
only  property  that  might  cause  difficulty  is  the  telephone,  which 
can  be  borrowed  from  any  telephone  company  without  cost  upon 
application  from  a  telephone  subscriber. 


W 


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The  District  Attorney 


ACT  I 

SCENE. — Interior.  Well-furnished  reception-room  with 
piano.  Three  openings,  L.,  r.  and  q.  Window  between  L. 
and  Q,  opening. 

(JDoor-bell  at  rise  of  curtain  ;  Margaret  enters  L.) 

Voices  (heard  off  stage').  Northwest  University.  Rah  ! 
Rah  1  Rah  !  Rah !  Northwest  University.  Rah !  Rah  I 
RAh  !  Rah  !  Hurrah  !  Hurrah  I  University  !  University  ! 
Rah  !     Rah  !     Rah  ! 

(^Door-bell  rings.     Mar.  runs  to  window.     General  cheer- 
ing in  the  distance.) 

Mar.  Gee  !  Look  at  those  boys  ;  they're  starting  to  cele- 
brate already.  {Walks  down  stage.)  Well  they  might,  for 
the  Northwestern  University  has  got  the  best  team  they  ever 
had.  Golly,  don't  I  wish  I  was  a  man  ;  I'd  work  like  the  old 
Harry  to  get  on  the  football  team,  and  if  I  did,  I'd  fight  like 
the  dickens  to  make  that  Michigan  crowd  look  like  a  bunch  of 
lemons.  {Door-bell  rings  again.  Exit  Mar.,  c.  Short 
pause.  Mr.  Wm.  Seabury  enters  from  r.,  crosses  to  L.  In- 
terrupted by  Mar.  at  c.)  Mr.  Seabury,  a  gentleman  to  see 
you. 

Mr.  S.     What  does  he  want  ? 

Mar.  I  don't  know,  sir ;  he  wouldn't  tell  me  the  nature  of 
the  business.     Said  something  you  should  know  about. 

Mr.  S.     What  is  he?     A  middle-aged  man? 

Mar.     No,  sir  ;  young.     Quite  good  looking. 

Mr.  S.     Wouldn't  tell  you  what  he  wanted,  eh  ? 

Mar.     No,  sir. 

Mr.  S.     VVell,  perhaps  you  had  better  show  him  in. 

{Exit  Mar.     Mr.  S.  goes  to  window  and  looks  out.) 

7 


O  THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY 

Enter  Mar.  with  Mr.  Herbert  Brownell,  c. 

Mr.  B.  Good-morning  Mr.  Seabury.  My  name  is  Brown- 
ell, Herbert  Brownell  of  the  Tribune.  I  understand  a  secret 
indictment  has  been  brought  against  the  Seabury  Packing  Co. 
by  the  grand  jury. 

Mr.  S.  Well,  supposing  it  has,  what  has  that  got  to  do  with 
you? 

Mr.  B.  Nothing,  only  perhaps  the  readers  of  the  paper 
might  be  interested  to  know  the  details  of  the  case. 

Mr.  S.  If  you  want  to  learn  the  details  of  the  case  why 
don't  you  go  to  the  District  Attorney?  He  evidently  knows 
them. 

Mr.  B.  Very  good  suggestion,  Mr.  Seabury.  I  have  al- 
ready done  that.  There  is  always  two  sides  to  a  story,  and 
we'd  like  to  hear  yours. 

Mr.  S.     Supposing  I  don't  choose  to  give  mine? 

Mr.  B.     But  I  believe  you  do  choose. 

Mr.  S.     Why  ? 

Mr.  B.  Because  if  we  publish  simply  the  information  we 
got  from  the  District  Attorney's  office,  namely,  that  secret  mains 
are  laid  into  your  plant  by  which  you  steal  millions  of  gallons 
of  the  city's  water  each  year,  it  might  look  rather  bad  for  you. 
Surely  a  word  from  you  at  this  time  would  do  no  harm  and 
might  create  a  public  sentiment  in  your  favor  that  would  re- 
act for  your  benefit  later  on. 

Mr.  S.  I  don't  know  but  what  you're  right.  Sit  down. 
Now  tell  me  exactly  what  you  want  to  know. 

{Reporter  takes  out  note-book.      Copies  notes.) 

Mr.  B.  First:  You're  president  of  the  largest  packing 
company  in  Chicago,  Mr.  Seabury? 

Mr.  S.     Yes. 

Mr.  B.  And  the  dividends  of  your  corporation  have  lately 
been  increased  to  twelve  per  cent.  ? 

Mr.  S.     What  has  that  got  to  do  with  this  indictment  ? 

Mr.  B.  The  public  always  like  to  know  the  financial  con- 
ditions of  the  corporation  involved. 

Mr.  S.  Imagine  we  are  making  too  big  profits,  eh  ?  The 
trouble  with  the  public  is,  that  they  don't  take  into  consider- 
ation what  a  big  corporation,  such  as  ours  is,  has  to  go  through 
to  bring  it  up  to  its  present  state  of  development. 


THE   DISTRICT    ATTORNEY  9 

Mr.  B.  Exactly.  Your  company  is  the  consolidation  of 
five  packing  houses. 

Mr.  S.     Yes. 

Mr.  B.  Will  you  tell  me  briefly,  Mr.  Seabury,  why  the  com- 
panies combined  ? 

Mr.  S.  Because  we  were  all  in  the  same  boat.  All  of  them 
had  the  same  experience  I  had.  That  is,  we  started  out  as 
young  men.  In  my  case,  I  was  in  for  myself  when  I  was 
twenty-four,  fought  an  up-hill  fight  against  competition  and 
business  depressions  until  I  placed  my  business  upon  a  firm 
foundation.  Competition  became  keener  and  keener  demand- 
ing a  larger  amount  of  advertising  and  higher  wages. 

Mr.  B.     Higher  wages  caused  by  the  men  unionizing. 

Mr.  S.  Yes.  I  was  forced  with  others  to  combine.  We 
saw  that  the  trusts  were  wiping  out  the  competitive  system, 
and  if  we  were  to  keep  pace  with  them  we  must  adopt  their 
tactics  and  become  one  of  them,  which  we  did. 

Mr.  B.  Now,  regarding  the  findings  of  the  grand  jury.  Is 
there  any  truth  in  them  ? 

Mr.  S.  None.  Absolutely  none.  (Rises.')  It's  the  at- 
tempt of  the  District  Attorney  to  make  political  material  at  the 
expense  of  the  business  interests  of  Chicago.  (Rings  bell.) 
You  tell  your  readers  for  me,  Mr.  Reporter,  that  at  the  proper 
time  and  place  this  matter  will  be  shown  up  in  its  true  light. 
(Enter  Mar.,  c.)  I  brand  this  whole  story  as  absolutely  false. 
I  have  given  you  all  the  time  I  can  spare  now.  Margaret  will 
show  you  out. 

Mr.  B.  Thank  you  very  much,  Mr.  Seabury.  You  won't 
regret  that  you  granted  me  this  interview.     Good-morning. 

Mr.  S.  Good-day.  (^a:^««/MR.  B.  ^zw^Mar.,  c.  Mr.  S. 
goes  to  'phone  ;  calls.)  Laselle  4226.  I'd  like  to  speak  to  Mr. 
Sullivan.  This  is  Seabury.  An  important  matter  has  just 
turned  up  which  will  interest  you.  Yes,  I'll  wait  in  for  you. 
All  right.     Good-bye.     {Resumes  seat  by  table.) 

Enter  Aunt  HATTiE/rom  l. 

Aunt  H.  William,  what  is  troubling  you  so?  I  have 
noticed  for  the  last  six  months  that  you  do  not  seem  to  be 
yourself;  won't  you  tell  me? 

Mr.  S.  There,  there,  little  sister,  it's  nothing  but  the  stress 
of  business.  You  know  it  has  increased  wonderfully  in  the 
last  few  months. 


10  THE   DISTRICT   ATTORNEY 

Aunt  H.  Yes,  I  know  it  has,  but  there  is  something  more 
than  business  troubling  you.  {JPiaces  hands  on  his  shoulders.') 
Ever  since  Florence  died,  I  have  been  mother  to  Dorothy  and 
companion  to  you.  It  is  only  right  that  I  should  bear  with 
you  your  sorrows  as  well  as  your  joys.  I  am  sure  Dorothy 
feels  the  same  as  I  do. 

Mr.  S.  Yes,  you  have  been  all  this  to  me  and  more.  If 
there  was  anything  to  tell  I  should  take  you  into  my  con- 
fidence.    How  is  Dorothy's  arm  to-day  ? 

{Hises  and  walks  toward  window.) 

Aunt  H.  As  well  as  can  be  expected.  The  doctor  says 
she  cannot  go  to  the  game  this  afternoon,  and  the  poor  child's 
heart  is  almost  broken.  I  believe  she  is  in  the  library.  I'll 
call  her  if  you  like  ? 

(Mr.  S.  nods  assent.     Exit  Aunt  H.,  r.) 

Enter  Aunt  H.,  followed  by  Dorothy  Seabury.     Mr.   S. 
turns  from  window  and  greets  Dor. 

Mr.  S.     Well,  my  dear,  how  are  you  to-day  ? 

Dor.  Quite  well,  father.  It  isn't  the  excitement  of  the 
accident  or  the  pain  in  my  arm  that  is  troubling  me,  but  the 
thought  that  I  will  be  unable  to  go  to  the  game. 

Mr.  S.  It  is  such  a  clear  day  you  can  see  the  game  from 
the  window  pretty  well. 

Dor.  Yes,  I  know  I  can.  But  it  isn't  like  being  on  the 
field,  hearing  the  cheering  which  means  so  much  to  the  players 
and  makes  one's  heart  throb  for  victory. 

Aunt  H.  Dorothy  is  a  brave  girl,  and  will  bear  her  disap- 
pointment bravely,  I  know. 

Mr.  S.  Is  there  anything  I  can  do,  dear,  to  make  the  day 
pleasant  ? 

Dor.  Yes,  father.  I've  asked  two  of  the  boys  who  are  on 
the  team  with  Dick  over  to  dinner  this  evening.  Billy  and  Mr. 
Kendrick. 

Mr.  S.     I  don't  like  young  Kendrick. 

Dor.     Why  ? 

Mr.  S.  Oh,  he  lacks  ambition  and — determination.  In- 
stead of  being  out  in  the  world  making  a  name  for  himself, 
here  he  is,  after  spending  three  years  in  a  regular  college  course 
and  two   years  in  the  law  department,  wasting  an  extra  year 


THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY  II 

simply  to  play  football.     {Drops  voice.)     I  do  hope  there  is 
nothing  serious  between  you  and  him. 
Aunt  H.     Don't  be  too  hasty,  William. 
Dor.  {turning aside).    He  is  nothing  to  me,  father.    {Turns 
to  Mr.  S.)     But  you  must  admit  he  is  a  fine  player. 

Mr.  S.  Yes.  But  ability  to  play  football  doesn't  count  in 
dollars  and  cents. 

Dor.  There  is  more  in  this  world  than  mere  money. 
{Exeunt  Mr.  S.  and  Aunt  H.  at  r.  Dor.  looks  out  of  window. 
Enter  Richard  Seabury  at  z.  Tosses  gloves,  hat  and  paper 
on  sofa  and  sinks  in  utter  despair  in  chair  at  side  of  table. 
Dor.  turning  sees  DiCK,  and  cklvances  toward  him.)  Why, 
Dick,  what  is  the  matter  ? 

Dick.     You've  always  found  me  a  decent  sort  of  a  fellow, 
especially  when  ladies  are  present,  haven't  you  ? 
Dor.     Why,  certainly. 

Dick.     You  would  at  least  allow  that  I  had  a  little  balance 
to  my  credit  as  a  gentleman  ? 
Dor.     Yes. 

Dick.  You  never  saw  me  do  a  jig  when  the  parson  was 
present  ? 

Dor.     No.     {Sits  in  chair  on  opposite  side  of  table.) 
Dick.     Or  walk  down  Dearborn  Street  on  my  hands,  kick- 
ing my  feet  in  the  air. 

Dor.     What  nonsense  !     You 

Dick.  Or  send  out  theatre  party  invitations  written  in  lead 
pencil. 

Dor.     What  are  you  driving  at  ? 

Dick.  On  the  whole  {turning  in  chair  and  facing  Dor.), 
am  I  getting  by  ?  Do  I  make  a  hit  ?  What  do  you  think  of 
mc? 

Dor.  {putting  arms  on  Dick's  shoulders  across  table).  To 
be  perfectly  serious,  I  think  you  are  the  nicest  brother  a  girl 
ever  had. 

Dick.     When  I'm  invited  to  dinner  do  you  find  it  necessary 
to  telephone  the  host  advising  him  to  have  me  watched  so  I 
won't  take  everything  that  isn't  anchored  ? 
Dor.  {laughing  aloud ).     Why,  Dick  ! 
Dick.     Will  you  tell  me,  then,  why  it  was  that  when  I,  as 
big  as  a  real  man,  jumped  from  my  car  in  front  of  her  house, 
ran  up  the  steps,  rang  the  bell,  gave  my  card  to  the  butler, 
waited  patiently,  it  was  only  to  find  that  she  wouldn't  see  me  ? 
Dor.     Did  she  refuse  ? 


12  THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY 

Dick.  No.  She  didn't  say  she  wouldn't  see  me,  but  the 
butler  said  she  was  out.     (^Ris£s  and  walks  to  fireplace.^ 

Dor.     She  probably  was. 

Dick.  That's  what  1  thought  when  he  told  me.  {Pause ; 
turns  toivard  Dor.)  Then  I  went  slowly  down  the  steps, 
hobbled  across  the  sidewalk,  fell  into  the  car,  started  the 
machine,  and  hardly  traveled  a  hundred  yards  when  I  realized 

I  was — was What  is  it  bees  do  to  persons  who  torment 

them? 

Dor.     They  sting  them. 

Dick.     Yep.     That's  it.     I  was  stung. 

Dor.     How  was  that  ? 

Dick.  Oh,  when  I  turned  around  to  see  if  the  rear  wheels 
of  the  car  were  following  the  front  ones,  I  saw  the  lady  in  ques- 
tion coming  down  the  steps  leaning  on  the  arm  of — well,  a 
cheap  sport. 

Dor.     Who  is  this  goddess  ? 

Dick.     Beverly. 

Dor.  Miss  Calvert  did  that  ?  There  must  have  been  some 
mistake. 

Dick.  Yes,  I'm  the  mistake.  {Pause.)  But  why  wouldn't 
she  see  me  ? 

Dor.  Perhaps  the  continuing  of  your  acquaintance  was  not 
agreeable  to  her. 

Dick.  Acquaintance !  You  mean  friends.  Why,  Dot  1 
Beverly  and  I  have  been  lifelong  friends  for — for — almost  two 
weeks.  I  suppose  if  Beverly's  father  knew  I  was  in  love  with 
her  he'd  have  me  tarred  and  feathered. 

Dor.     Oh,  I  guess  not.     You  mustn't  be  too  hard  on  him. 

Dick.  I'm  not  his  judge.  But,  according  to  the  news- 
papers, on  some  dark  night  he  should  charter  a  steamer,  load 
it  up  with  his  coin,  have  it  steam  out  into  the  middle  of  the 
lake  and  when  no  one  is  looking  drop  the  "mazuma"  over- 
board. 

Dor.  The  newspapers  always  assume  that  large  fortunes 
are  made  dishonestly.     In  our  father's  case 

Dick.  Oh,  our  father.  His  money  is  in  ;  and  came  out  of 
the  packing  business.  People  have  got  to  eat.  What  is  more 
heroic  than  supplying  a  large  portion  of  the  world  with  part  of 
its  food  ?  I  mean  those  fellows  who  made  their  money  over- 
night in  land-grab  schemes,  race-tracks,  bucket  shops,  or  some 
other  swindling  game.  But  here's  one  of  the  stocks  "Pa" 
Calvert  doesn't  vote  on.     I'm  going  to  have  Beverly. 


THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY  I3 

Dor.     What  does  slie  say  about  it  ? 

Dick.  I  haven't  asked  her  yet.  But  I  know  she  loves  me, 
because  I'm  just  crazy  about  her. 

Dor.  How  do  you  reconcile  this  statement  with  your  recent 
cold  reception  ? 

Dick.  There's  something  behind  that.  I  don't  know  what 
it  is  and  I  don't  care.  Beverly  is  as  good  as  won.  Even  if 
she  were  confined  in  some  castle  of  medieval  days,  built  on 
an  island  in  some  isolated  lake,  surrounded  by  the  pick  of 
Napoleon's  army,  it  would  make  no  difference.  I  would  draw 
my  sword,  engage  in  a  hand-to-hand  conflict  with  the  **  Old 
Guard,"  and  after  I  had  conquered  them  swim  to  the  island, 
storm  the  castle,  rescue  Beverly,  and  deal  with  the  castle's 
defenders  as  becomes  a  victor.  You  see  it's  my  move,  and  I 
want  to  play  the  game  so's  to  win.     Of  course  you'll  help  me. 

Dor.  Help  you  ?  How  ?  You  know  she  is  my  chum  and 
will  probably  call  on  me  some  time  to-day.     (^Rises.) 

Dick.  Yes,  I  know.  But  why  can't  you  arrange  for  a  little 
theatre  party  some  evening  next  week?  You  and  Beverly  may 
be  the  guests  and  I'll  be  the  protector. 

Dor.     It's  entirely  out  of  the  question.     I — I — why,  I  can't. 

Dick.  Oh,  help  a  fellow.  Just  this  once,  won't  you? 
That's  the  way  with  sisters.  Never  want  to  give  their  little 
brothers  a  helping  hand.  They  sit  back  and  grin  at  him  and 
let  him  fight  it  out  the  best  way  he  can.     Just  this  once  ? 

Dor.     I  won't  promise,  but  I'll  do  the  best  I  can. 

Dick.  That's  the  girl.  I  knew  you  would  if  I  teased  long 
enough.     I  tell  you.  Dot,  love 

Enter  Mar.,  c.  door. 

Mar.     This  way,  gentlemen. 

Enter  Bob  Kkndrick  and  Billy  Reynolds,  carrying  suit* 
cases.     Get  stuck  in  door. 

Billy.     You  go  first,  Bob,  and  I'll  proceed  you. 

(^Both  place  suit-cases  at  right  of  door.     Throw  sweaters  on 
suit- cases.) 

Dor.     Hello,  Bobby  I 

(Bob  nods  acknowledgment.     Exit  Mar.  ) 

Bob.     Is  your  courage  good,  Dick? 


14  THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY 

(  Crosses  and  shakes  hands  with  Dick.  ) 

Dick.  High-water  mark.  Full  to  overflowing.  Just  wait- 
ing to  get  at  them. 

(Bob  crosses  to  Dor.     Billy  shakes  hands  with  Dick,  then 
walks  over  and  stands  behind  Bob.) 

Bob  (to  Dor.).  How's  that  naughty  little  arm?  Is  the 
doctor  going  to  let  you  go  to  the  game  ? 

Dor.  I'm  afraid  not.  His  royal  highness,  Dr.  Grey  {rais- 
ing right  arm)f  issued  a  decree  that  I  shall  not  leave  the  house 
to-day.  Isn't  that  just  my  luck?  I  have  looked  forward  to 
this  game  for  so  long,  and  was  going  with  the  jolliest  bunch 
of  girls.  Now  all  I'll  see  of  the  game  is  from  a  stupid  old 
window.     {Stamps  foot.) 

Billy  {shaking  hands  with  himself).  I  am  pleased  to  meet 
myself,  thank  you. 

Dor.  Oh,  my  poor  Billy.  I  didn't  mean  to  overlook  you. 
You'll  forgive  me  ? 

(Bob  crosses  to  r.  and  talks  with  Dick.) 

Billy.     I'll  think  it  over  and  let  you  know  later. 

Dor.  If  you  feel  as  fine  as  you  look  you  ought  to  give  a 
good  account  of  yourself  in 

Dick.  Oh,  he'll  give  a  good  account  of  himself,  won't  he, 
Bob? 

Bob.  He  ought  to  after  that  private  interview  with  the 
coach. 

Dor.     Did  he  give  you  a  scolding,  Billy? 

Billy.  He  had  a  little  friendly  advice  in  one  hand,  and  my 
walking  ticket  in  the  other,  and  it  was  up  to  me  to  draw. 

Dor.  What  is  it  the  coach  says  to  the  team  between  the 
halves  which  puts  so  much  life  into  them  ? 

Bob.     Ask  Billy.     He  knows. 

Billy.  Ask  the  coach ;  perhaps  he'll  give  you  a  private 
lesson. 

Dor.     Billy ! 

Dick.  Bob's  got  Billy's  lecture  down  pat.  He  was  reciting 
it  up  in  the  room  the  other  night.     Hey,  Bill  ? 

Billy.  Oh,  it  was  a  pretty  good  imitation,  with  emphasis 
on  the  imitation. 

Dor.     Let's  hear  it,  Bob. 

Bob.     It  wouldn't  be  just  right  to  Billy, 


THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY  1$ 

Billy.     Awl     Sure,  go   ahead,  if  you  like.     I'm  always 
getting  it  rubbed  into  me.     Guess  I  can  stand  it. 

(^Clears  the  rootn  for  the  professor.  Pulls  table  back  a 
little  way  and  moves  chairs  back  a  little  way.  Dor.  sits 
on  piano  stooly  Billy  in  chair j  Dick  on  divan.') 

Bob  (with  plenty  of  action).  Well,  seeing  you  want  to  hear 
it  so  bad.  You'll  have  to  stretch  your  imagination  a  bit.  The 
scene  is  the  interior  of  the  dressing-room.  {Goes  down  R. 
front  of  stage.)  One  of  those  wooden  buildings  made  from 
matched  boards,  lockers  on  one  side,  a  few  long  benches  on 
the  other,  a  couple  of  windows  and  a  door.  Outside  a  mighty 
cheer  rends  the  air ;  the  first  half  is  over.  (Slow.)  The  team 
files  in.  (Pathos.)  Each  member  of  it  a  picture  of  despair. 
Some  of  the  fellows  lie  flat  on  their  backs.  Some  drop  on  the 
benches.  Others  lean  against  the  walls.  (Low  voice.)  There 
is  a  low  hum  of  voices  until  Parker — he's  the  coach — comes  in 
and  slams  the  door.  He  faces  the  team  like  a  lion  at  bay. 
Then  follows  something  like  this  (plenty  of  action) :  "Every 
one  of  you  men  get  down  on  your  back.  If  I  have  told  you 
fellows  once,  I've  told  you  a  hundred  times  to  cut  out  your 
smoking.  That's  all  the  good  it  did.  Every  one  of  you  is 
panting  like  a  locomotive.  You  fellows  cut  out  your  smoking, 
or  some  of  the  subs  will  be  put  in.  What's  the  results?  The 
first  half  is  over  and  they've  scored  six  points.  (Points  to  im- 
aginary player  on  floor.)  You  shut  up  that  noise  and  listen. 
(Pause.)  Jones,  what's  the  matter  with  you  ?  You're  way  up 
in  the  air  and  slow  as  a  freight  train.  In  fact,  the  whole  team 
is  rotten  on  the  start.  Time  and  again  they've  got  the  jump 
on  you  and  made  anywhere  from  ten  to  fifteen  yards.  (Sar- 
castically.) Turner,  you're  the  poorest  quarter-back  I  ever  saw, 
not  using  any  head  work.  (Pats  head.)  You  call  for  your 
plays  like  an  old  woman.  The  whole  team  is  going  to  pieces 
under  you.  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  when  you  had  the  ball 
inside  your  own  twenty-yard  line  to  kick  ?  You've  been  doing 
everything  but  that.  I'll  start  you  in  the  second  half,  and  if 
you  don't  play  good  ball  you're  coming  out.  When  you're  in- 
side your  own  twenty-yard  line,  kick,  kick,  kick.  When  in 
the  centre  of  the  field  use  your  onside  kicks,  fake  plays  and 
forward  passes.  You  do  some  work,  hard  work  ;  get  that  ball 
inside  their  thirty-yard  line.  Try  between  left  guard  and 
tackle.  Use  your  tandem  formation  with  plenty  of  ginger.  If 
you  make  the  distance  slam  them  again.     (Sarcastic.)     Billy, 


l6  THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY 

the  first  thing  I  want  you  to  do  is  to  get  that  bunch  of  skirts 
out  of  your  mind  and  stop  trying  to  make  grand-stand  plays. 
Look  at  your  face;  pretty  sight,  isn't  it?  Their  centre  is  put- 
ting it  all  over  you.  He  gets  the  jump  on  you  and  blocks 
our  plays.  If  you  don't  play  the  game  of  your  life  this  next 
half  (^pausing,  shaking  fist  in  Billy's  face)  I'll  break  your 
neck.  As  a  team  you're  not  working  together  ;  you've  all  got 
your  minds  on  some  feminine  beauty.  1  want  you  fellows  to 
get  together  and  do  a  little  team  work,  play  low  and  slam  that 
line  hard.  Listen  for  your  signals,  and  when  you  get  them 
start.  You  backs  stick  to  your  interference.  I  want  you  fel- 
lows to  go  out  and  play  a  hard,  fast,  consistent  game.  Quarter- 
back, you  find  their  weak  spot  and  you  pound  it,  slam  it,  punch 
it,  and  when  you  get  tired  pound  it  some  more.  Whatever 
you  do,  go  out  there  and  win.  My  last  word  to  you,  Billy,  is 
to  forget  the  girl  and  play  football.     That's  all." 

(Bob  sits  on  couch.     Applause  from  Dick  and  Billy.) 

Dor.     Do  you  boys  have  to  stand  all  that  ? 

Dick.     That's  what  puts  the  life  into  us. 

Billy.  Yep,  that's  right.  {Picks  up  his  sweater  and  suit- 
case.) Show  us  where  we  are  going  to  dress,  Dick,  and  we 
will  get  the  cases  out  of  the  way.     Come  on,  Bob. 

Bob  {picking  up  sweater  and  suit-case).  You'll  excuse  us, 
won't  you,  Dorothy? 

Dor.     Certainly. 

Dick.  We're  going  up  to  the  room  now,  and  if  we  should 
return  during  our  absence,  just  hold  us  here  until  we  get  back. 

{Exeunt,  at  r.,  Billy,  Bob  and  Dick.     Dor.  resumes  seat 
at  piano  and  plays  softly.) 

Enter  Mar.,  c. 

Mar.     Miss  Calvert  is  in  the  reception-room. 

Dor.  Will  you  show  her  in  here,  Margaret,  please  ?  (Exit 
Mar.,  c.  Enter  UIkvl.,  followed  by  Beverly  Calvert, /r^wc.) 
Hello,  Beverly.  It's  nice  of  you  to  come  to  see  me  before  the 
game.     Come  over  here  and  talk  to  me. 

(Dor.  and  Bev.  sit  on  divan.) 

Bev.     I  feel  so  sorry  you  will  not  be  able  to  go  with  us. 


THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY  1 7 

Oh,  by  the  way,  you  remember  Bernice  Carter,  who  was  at 
Welleslcy  with  us  ? 

Dor.     You  don't  mean  Bernice  Carter,  the  man-hater  ? 

Bev.  The  very  same.  While  on  my  way  up  here  I  met 
her,  and  what  do  you  think?    She's  engaged. 

Dor.     Engaged  I 

Bev.  {nodding  head).  He  gave  her  the  nicest  diamond  I 
believe  I  ever  saw.  (^Rises.)  He's  tall,  broad-shouldered,  has 
light  hair,  blue  eyes,  and  is  quite  an  athlete.  I  believe  she  said 
he  was  a  Yale  man.  (Sits  down.)  Isn't  it  strange  that  just  as 
soon  as  class-day  is  over  all  the  girls  announce  their  engage- 
ments, one  right  after  the  other  ?  I  suppose  you  will  be  the 
next? 

Dor.  Me !  Why,  Beverly,  who  would  want  an  old  maid 
like  me,  who  is  cross  and  crabbed  and  as  ugly  as  can  be  ?  In 
a  few  years  the  tabbys  will  be  calling  me  their  friend. 

Bev.  (edging  up  to  Dor.).  Oh,  Dorothy,  you  don't  mean 
that  ?  You're  just  out  of  college.  Why,  last  year  at  this  time 
we  were  studying  our  hardest  trying  to  pass  exams,  and  cram- 
ming for  all  we  were  worth.  Oh,  but  I've  some  fine  news. 
Father  told  us  this  morning  that  we  would  stay  in  Chicago  this 
winter  instead  of  going  South  as  we  first  intended.  So  you  see 
we  will  still  be  together. 

Dor.  I'm  so  glad.  I  was  afraid  you  would  winter  at  Palm 
Beach.  And  you  know  Palm  Beach  is  where  all  the  pretty 
young  girls  fall  in  love. 

Bev.  I  guess  I'll  never  fall  in  love.  I  haven't  any  use  for 
a  man.  Oh,  yes,  I  have,  too — father  was  going  to  take  mother 
and  me  to  the  opera  to-night,  but  he  has  been  called  to  New 
York  and  must  catch  the  five  o'clock  train.  So  you  see  mother 
and  I  are  looking  for  a  man. 

Dor.     Perhaps  my  brother  Dick  could  accommodate  you? 

Bev.     Do  you  believe  he  would  ? 

(Bob  appears  in  doorway.) 

Dor.     I'll  ask  him  if  you  like  ? 

Bkv.     No.     Perhaps  I  had  better  do  that. 

(Bob  coughs  in  doorway,  r.     Dor.,  turning,  sees  Bob;  both 
girls  rise.) 

Dor.  Oh,  Bob,  I  want  you  to  meet  a  college  friend  of 
mine.     Miss  Calvert,  Mr.  Kendrick. 


l8  THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY 

Bob.  I  am  glad  to  meet  you,  Miss  Calvert. 

Bev.  I  have  heard  Dorothy  speak  of  you  so  often  that  I 
feel  as  if  I  had  known  you  for  a  long  time. 

Dor.  Why,  Beverly ! 

Bob.  I  hope  you  only  heard  the  best  reports  about  me  ? 

Bev.  Just  the  nicest 

Dor.  Now  you  cut  that  out. 

(Dor.  leads  Bev.  to  window  ;  they  talk  in  undertone.  Bob 
in  quandary.  Suddenly  has  an  idea.  Goes  to  right  en- 
trance and  whistles.     Dick  whistles  off  stage.) 

Enter  Dick,  r. 

Bob.  Didn't  I  hear  you  raving  in  your  sleep  last  night 
about  Beverly  Calvert  ?     {Short pause.)     She's  over  there. 

Dick  {looking  around  room).  Where?  {Indifferently.) 
Oh,  yes,  I  see. 

Bob.     Supposing  you  go  over  and  talk  to  her. 

Dick.     Nope.     I'm  bashful. 

Bob  {slapping  Dick  on  back).  Oh,  get  out.  Take  her  out 
for  a  nice  little  stroll  and  show  her  the  grounds.  Help  a  fellow 
out,  won't  you  ? 

(Dick  and  Bob  move  down  centre  stage.) 

Dick.  Well,  I'll  tell  you,  Bob,  I  don't  care  anything  about 
taking  a  walk,  but  seeing — er — that,  well,  you  want  me  to,  I 
suppose  I'll  have  to  accommodate  you.  Remember,  I'm  doing 
this  not  because  I  want  to,  but  just  to  help  you  out.  So  when 
I  come  around  looking  for  a  favor  I'll  expect  to  get  it.  You 
swear  ? 

Bob  {raising  right  hand).     I  do. 

Dick  {very  bashfully).     Good-morning,  Miss  Calvert. 

(Bev.  advances  and  shakes  hands  with  Dick.) 

Bev.  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Seabury  ?  I  am  sorry  I  was  out 
when  you  called. 

{Bob  joins  Dor.  at  window.  Dick  and  Bev.  move  down 
stage.) 

Dick.  Out — oh,  that's  all  right.  Sister  was  telling  me  you 
were  interested  in  dogs.  I  have  the  finest  litter  of  pups  you 
ever  saw.     Wouldn't  you  like  to  see  them  ? 


THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY  1 9 

Bev.  Yes,  indeed  I  would.  You  won't  mind,  will  you, 
Dorothy  ? 

Dor.     Certainly  not. 

Dick  {to  Bev.,  while  going  off  stage  ate).  There's  one  lit- 
tle brindle  fellow  with  the  cutest  little  screw  tail  and  white 
stockinged  paws  you  ever  saw \^Exeunt. 

Bob.     I  can  hardly  realize  that  we  are  at  last  alone. 

Dor.     But  we  are.     {Walk  toward  divan.) 

Bob.  Yes  !  All  this  morning  up  till  now  I  felt  as  though  I 
was  living  in  some  other  world.  Everything  seemed  so  strange, 
as  though  I  was  in  some  sort  of  a  trance.  I  don't  know  what  it 
was  unless  it  was  love.  When  I  saw  you  I  suddenly  seemed  to 
come  to  myself  and  realized  what  a  beautiful  place  this  earth 
really 

Dor.  You're  a  mighty  nice  boy,  Bobby  ;  now  sit  down  and 
behave  and  don't  talk  nonsense.     {Both  sit  on  divan.) 

Bob.  That's  what  you  tell  me  every  time  I  make  love  to 
you. 

Dor.  Then  you  shouldn't  make  love  to  me.  Why,  you're 
not  even  out  of  college  yet. 

Bob.     I  wish  you  would  take  me  seriously. 

Dor.  How  can  I  take  you  seriously  when  you  are  anything 
but  serious  ?  I  wish  you  would  cut  college  and  start  a  law  prac- 
tice and  do  things.  There's  Henry  Chandler,  just  your  age, 
who  has  a  law  practice  of  several  thousand  dollars  a  year. 

Bob  (rising).  What  do  I  need  to  practice  law  for  ?  (  Walks 
to  left  of  stage  in  meditation,  and  returns.)  I  have  more 
money  now  than  I  can  ever  spend  {sitting  down),  unless  you 
help  me.  {Puts  arms  around  Dor.)  If  you  only  knew  how 
I  love  you.  (Dor.  reluctantly  pushes  Bob  away.)  I  went  out 
into  the  Rockies  this  summer  thinking  that  with  Dick  and  Bill 
'way  out  there  on  the  mountains  I  could  forget  you,  and  lose 
myself  in  nature.  But  I  was  just  the  same  as  I  am  now,  always 
thinking  of  you.  It  seemed  as  if  all  nature  was  in  a  conspiracy 
to  remind  me  of  you.  The  rocks  on  the  mountainsides  seemed 
to  work  their  jagged  forms  into  the  outline  of  your  name.  The 
little  birds  as  they  chirped  their  happy  songs  seemed  to  sing  it. 
The  universe 

Dor.  (interrupting).  Bobby,  stop  that  foolishness.  This 
makes  the  fifth  time  you  have  proposed  to  me,  and  I  have  told 
you  every  time  that  the  man  I  marry  must  have  more  to  offer 
me  than  love  or  money.  He  must  be  one  who,  if  every  cent 
of  his  money  was  lost  in  a  day,  could  go  out  into  the  world  and 


20  THE    DISTRICT   ATTORNEY 

make  a  living  for  himself  and  me.  The  last  time  you  spoke  to 
me  about  this  you  promised  that  when  you  came  back  from 
your  vacation  you  would  go  into  your  father's  business,  and  in 
time  take  charge  of  it. 

Bob  {rising  and  moving  toward  centre  of  stage).  Yes,  I 
know  I  did.  If  you  knew  how  hard  Ruggles,  the  captain  of 
the  team,  plead  for  me  to  come  back  to  college  this  fall  and 
play,  you  wouldn't  blame  me.  {Returns;  stands  behind  divan.) 
After  a  man  has  been  in  college  a  few  years  he  gets  the  spirit, 
you  know  what  I  mean,  the  college  spirit,  and  he  will  do  any- 
thing for  his  Alma  Mater.  But  just  as  soon  as  the  football 
season  is  over  I'll  leave  college  and  start  in  father's  law  office. 
I  don't  know  anything  about  the  office  business,  but  I  don't  see 
why  it  shouldn't  go  straight  on  as  it  always  has. 

Dor.  {toying  with  a  piece  of  ribbon).  Possibly ;  but  I  im- 
agine your  father  expected  you  to  have  rather  a  difficult  time 
of  it.  Perhaps  he  wanted  you  to,  so  that  a  defeat  or  two  will 
sting  you  into  having  a  little  more  serious  purpose  in  life  than 
you  have  at  present. 

Bob.  If  I  could  only  remember  my  promises  I  think  I  would 
get  along  better.  Some  one  asks  me  to  play  polo,  toss  a  ball 
or  some  other  thing,  and  my  good  resolutions  go  to  the  winds. 
I  have  it !  Tie  that  piece  of  ribbon  on  my  finger,  and  see  if  I 
can  remember  over  night. 

Dor.  {rising).  Oh,  you  silly  boy  !  Well,  if  it  will  help 
you  any,  I'll  humor  you. 

{Ties  ribbon  on  finger  of  Bob's  left  hand.) 

Bob  {taking  Dor.'s  hands  in  his).  If  I  go  in  and  make  a 
success  of  the  business,  will  you  marry  me  ? 

Dor.     This  makes  the  sixth  time,  but  you  never  can  tell. 
Bob  {embracing  Dor.).     I'm  going  to  seal  that  with  a  kiss. 

(Dor.  screams  and  struggles.) 

Aunt  H.  {looking for  Dor.,  calls  for  her  off  right  of  stage). 

Dorothy ! 

Dor.     Yes,  Auntie. 

Enter  Aunt  H.,  at  R. 

Aunt  H.  Good-morning,  Mr.  Kendrick.  I  hope  you  are 
feeling  well  ? 

Bob  {nervous).     Very  well,  thank  you. 


THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY  21 

Aujrr  H.  I  suppose  you  are  so  full  of  football  that  you 
have  been  telling  Dorothy  the  outcome  of  to-day's  game? 

Bob  {very  nervous).  Yes.  Oh,  yes,  yes.  I  have  been 
telling  her  tliat  we  are  going  to  beat  them  to  a  jelly.  That  is 
-— er — I  should  have  said,  we  anticipate  a  victory.  (^Gains 
confidence.')  You  see,  we  have  most  of  last  year's  team  back, 
and  have  got  the  bulliest  coach  a  team  ever  had.  (^Full  of 
confidence.)  I  don't  believe  there  is  a  single  thing  about  the 
game  that  that  man  doesn't  know.  Knows  it  from  A  to  Z. 
Just  like  a  book. 

Enter  DiCK  arid  Bev.,  «/c.,  arm  in  arm, 

Bev.     I  think  they  are  just  the  cutest  puppies  I  ever  saw. 

(Bob  crosses  and  talks  to  Dor.) 

Dick.     That's  'cause  they're  mine. 

Bev.  (Jo  Aunt  H.).     Good-morning,  Miss  Seabury. 

Aunt  H.  Good-morning.  I  suppose  Dick  has  been  show- 
ing you  his  dogs  ? 

Bev.  Yes;  I  think  they  are  just  lovely.  (21?  Dick.)  But 
wasn't  the  mother  cross? 

Dick.  You  bet.  She  thought  by  the  way  you  cuddled  up 
the  little  fellow  that  you  would  want  it. 

Bev,  You're  going  to  give  him  to  me  when  he  gets  a  little 
older,  aren't  you  ? 

Dick.  Yes,  I  guess  so,  seeing  that  he  will  have  such  a  fine 
mistress.  {To  audience.).  Golly!  Don't  I  wish  I  was  that 
pup. 

Enter  Billy,  r. 

Billy  {angrily).  You're  the  hottest  fellows  I  ever  saw,  to 
beat  it  off  and  leave  me  alone  in  the  pool-room.  {To  Dor.) 
What  do  you  think  of  these  fellows,  Dorothy?  We  were  hav- 
ing a  game  of  pool.  Bob  excuses  himself,  then  Dick  goes  off  to 
find  Bob,  and  neither  of  them  comes  back.  I've  read  a  couple 
of  magazines  all  through  waiting  for  them  to  return  and  finish 
the  game.  But  I  guess  those  fellows  are  playing  some  other 
game  than  pool.     {Door-bell  rings.) 

Bob  {crossing  and  slapping  Billy  on  back).  Come,  Billy, 
cheer  up.  You  know  what  the  coach  said  about  being  dis- 
heartened before  a  game. 

Dick.     Quit  teasing  Billy  ;  you'll  make  him  peevish. 


22  THE    DISTRICT   ATTORNEY 

Mar.  (entering  at  c).  Miss  Peggy  Marshall,  Miss  Polly 
Whitney. 

Enter  Peggy  Marshall  and  Polly  Whitney. 

Dick  {advancing  to  meet  theni).  Look  who's  here.  Greet- 
ings. 

Peg.     Hello,  Dick  ! 

Dor.  Hello,  girls !  I  didn't  think  you  would  forget  me 
in  my  misery. 

Pol.     You  know  us  better  than  that,  Dorothy,  don't  you  ? 

Peg.     Well,  I  should  think  you  ought  to. 

Dor.  Yes,  I  do.  You've  met  every  one  here,  I  believe, 
except  Billy. 

Dick.     Billy,  mother  wants  you. 

(Billy  advances.') 

Dor.  Let  me  make  you  acquainted  with  Peggy  Marshall — 
Billy. 

Peg.     I  am  pleased  to  meet  you. 

Billy.     Charmed. 

Dor.     Miss  Polly  Whitney— Billy. 

Billy.     Dee-lighted  ! 

Pol.     Thank  you. 

(  General  laugh.  Billy  takes  both  by  arms  and  leads  them 
to  divan y  sitting  between  them.  General  stage  talk  be- 
tween others  in  group.) 

Billy.  You  know,  I  knew  I  was  going  to  meet  you  girls 
this  afternoon. 

Pol.     Indeed ! 

Peg.     How's  that  ? 

Billy.  You  see,  I  went  to  a  fortune-teller  the  other  day 
and  she  said  some  time  within  five,  and  to-day  is  the  fourth 
day,  I  would  make  the  acquaintance  of  two  of  the  most  charm- 
ing ladies  I  had  ever  met. 

Peg.     Really  ? 

Pol.  How  strange !  Why,  you  don't  believe  in  fortune- 
tellers, do  you  ? 

Billy.  Not  in  all  they  say,  but  once  in  a  while  they  do  hit 
a  nail  on  the  head.  Course,  if  I  was  foolish  enough  to  believe 
it  all,  I  ought  to  get  hit  on  the  head. 

Peg.  And  pray  tell  us,  Bill — I  mean  Mr.  Reynolds,  what 
would  this  team  do  for  a  centre  this  afternoon  ? 


THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY  23 

Pol.  I  guess  he  never  thought  of  that.  Maybe  the  fortune- 
teller told  him  some  way  out. 

Billy.     Are  you  girls  kidding  me  ? 

Peg.     No,  I  am  not,  and  I  know  Polly  never  does. 

Bob  {looking  at  ivatcK).  Say,  fellows,  it's  half- past  twelve. 
Hadn't  we  better  be  getting  into  our  togs  ? 

Billy.     Guess  we  had  if  we  don't  want  to  be  sat  on. 

Dick.     Oh,  you'll  be  sat  on  all  right. 

Billy.     There  you  go,  picking  on  a  little  fellow  like  me. 

(Dick  and  Bob  start  for  r.  exit.) 

Bev.     I  want  you  boys  to  give  a  good  account  of  yourselves. 

Aunt  H.     I'm  sure  they  will. 

Dor.  Remember  I'm  going  to  watch  the  game  from  the 
window.     {Sits  on  couch.') 

Billy  [standing  with  Peg.  and  Pol.).  I'm  awfully  pleased 
to  have  met  you  girls,  and  I  hope  that  fortune  will  smile  favor- 
ably on  me  in  the  future — (under  breath)  and  other  young 
ladies — {aloud)  and  that  I  shall  see  you  often. 

Peg.  Fortune  is  a  very  funny  person  ;  it's  hard  to  win  her 
favor.  I  hope  you  boys  as  a  team  don't  meet  her  daughter, 
Miss  Fortune,  for  we  want  you  to  win. 

Pol.  Yes,  and  so  do  I,  for  I  lose  a  pound  of  Huyler's  if 
you  don't. 

Billy.     Do  you  really  want  me — I  mean  us,  to  win  ? 

Peg.     Of  course. 

Pol.     Yes. 

Billy.  Then  it's  settled  we  win ;  you  just  watch  us.  Now, 
all  together,  one  good  big  cheer  for  the  Northwestern  Uni- 
versity. 

Northwestern  University.    Rah!  Rah!    Rah!  Rah! 
Northwestern  University.    Rah  !  Rah  !    Rah  !  Rah  I 

Hurrah  !    Hurrah  ! 
University,  University.    Rah  !  Rah  !  Rah  1 

(£xeunf  af  R.f  Dick,  Billy  and  Bob.) 

Dor.     If  the  boys  keep  that  spirit  up  they  will  win. 

Aunt  H.  What  great  difference  does  it  make  whether 
they  do  or  not  ? 

Bev.  What !  Why,  of  course  you  don't  mean  that,  Miss 
Seabury  ?  You  are  just  as  anxious  to  see  them  win  as  we  are, 
now  aren't  you  ? 


24  THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY 

Aunt  H.     I  guess  I  am. 

Peg.  I  wish  you  were  going  along  with  us,  Dorothy.  Polly 
and  I  have  an  extra  seat  that  you  could  use  just  as  well  as  not. 

Pol.  I  guess  if  Dorothy  was  going  she  wouldn't  be  sitting 
with  us  girls. 

Dor.  Don't  judge  me  too  harshly.  Remember  I  have  got 
to  stay  at  home  and  watch  the  game  from  the  window. 

Bev.  I  suppose  accidents  will  happen,  only  I  wish  it  was 
after  the  game  instead  of  before. 

Dor.  So  do  I,  but  then  I  can  see  fairly  well  from  here. 
Remember  you  girls  have  got  to  cheer  for  me  because  they 
can't  hear  me. 

Peg.  We  had  better  be  going,  Polly.  We  won't  have  any 
too  much  time  as  it  is.  Perhaps  you  will  come  along  with  us, 
Beverly  ? 

Bev.  Thanks.  I  don't  know  but  what  I  will.  Good-bye, 
Miss  Seabury. 

Aunt  H.  Good-bye,  girls.  I  hope  you  will  enjoy  your- 
selves. 

Pol.     You  bet  we  will. 

Peg.     I  never  went  to  a  game  but  what  I  enjoyed  it. 

Bev.     Everybody  does.     Good-bye. 

(All  exeunt  at  c.     Aunt  H.  goes  to  the  window.) 
Enter  Mr.  S.,  at  l. 

Mr.  S.  What  was  all  that  noise  and  howling  about  I  heard 
a  few  minutes  ago  ? 

Aunt  H.  That  was  the  young  people  giving  one  of  their 
college  yells. 

Mr.  S.  It  seems  to  me  they  made  a  good  deal  of  noise. 
{Walks  down  stage  with  hands  in  trousers  pockets.)  V\\  be 
glad  when  the  football  season  is  over.  I've  heard  football 
morning,  noon,  and  night,  for  the  last  three  weeks,  and  I'm 
sick  and  tired  of  it. 

Dor.  (entering  at  c).     Why,  what  is  the  matter,  father? 

Mr.  S.  I  was  just  speaking  my  mind  about  this  crazy  foot- 
ball nonsense.  If  these  young  fellows  instead  of  chasing  a  ball 
up  and  down  the  field,  piling  on  top  of  one  another,  and  seeing 
how  much  pounding  a  man  can  stand  without  being  killed, 
would  only  use  the  same  amount  of  energy,  ambition  and  de- 
termination in  business,  what  a  wonderful  world  this  would  be. 

Aunt  H.     All  you  think  of,  William,  is  business. 

lExitj  at  R. 


THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY  25 

Enter  Mar.,  at  c,  followed  by  P.  Homer  Sullivan. 

Mar.     Mr.  P.  Homer  Sullivan  is 

SuL.  {interrupting).     Right  here.  \Exit  Mar. 

Mr.  S.     Good-morning,  Mr.  Sullivan. 
SuL.     I  got  here  just  as  soon  as  I  could  after  I  received  your 
message. 

Mr.  S.     My  daughter  Dorothy,  Mr.  Sullivan. 
SuL.     I'm  pleased  to  meet  you. 

Enter  Mar. 

Mar.  Miss  Dorothy,  your  aunt  would  like  to  see  you  in 
the  library. 

Dor.     Will  you  excuse  me  ? 

Both.     Certainly.  \_Exeunt  Dor.  and  Mar.,  c. 

SuL.  Kind  of  funny,  Seabury,  isn't  it,  that  your  daughter 
should  be  thrown  from  one  of  the  cars  of  our  Terminal 
Company  ? 

Mr.  S.  Sh  !  not  so  loud.  {Pulls  down  window.)  Some 
one  might  overhear.     {Pulls  down  curtain  and  closes  door.) 

SuL.     Now,  to  get  down  to  business,  what's  up  ? 

Mr.  S.  Crosby  has  been  converted  to  the  paths  of  right 
and  duty  and  has  summoned  me  to  court. 

SuL.  Damn  Crosby  !  I  knew  we  would  have  trouble  with 
him.  I  just  left  the  young  cur  down  at  the  Westwood.  He 
was  as  snorty  as  a  young  pup.  We  might  as  well  clean  this 
thing  up  first  as  last.     Where's  your  'phone? 

Mr.  S.     Over  there  by  the  window. 

SuL.     Hello! Give  me  Main  9005 Westwood? 

Will  you  look  in  the  dining-room  and  see  if  you  can  find  Mr. 
John  J.  Crosby  there.  I  left  him  at  the  table  near  the  Green 
Street  window Never  mind  who  it  is.  Just  tell  him  some- 
body wants  to  talk  to  him.     (Short pause.)    I  tell  you,  Seabury, 

this  thing Hello,  Crosby.     This  is  Sullivan.     I'm  up  at 

Seabury 's.     I  want  you  to  come  up  here  at  once What's 

that  ? What  do  I  want  ? Never  mind  what  1  want.     You 

come  up  here  at  once.     {Slams  receiver  down.) 

Mr.  S.     Is  he  coming  ? 

SuL.  Coming?  Well,  I  guess  he  is,  if  he  knows  what's 
good  for  him. 

Mr.  S.     Supposing  he  don't? 

SuL.  Never  mind  supposing.  Seabury,  we're  in  a  devil  of 
a  hole.     If  Crosby  gives  us  the  shake  now  the  game  is  up. 


26  THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY 

Mr.  S.     What  game  ? 

SuL.  Why,  everything,  so  far  as  I'm  concerned,  and  you, 
too.  Why,  he  was  old  man  Kendrick's  private  secretary,  and 
he  knows  all  about  the  graft  and  crooked  work  in  the  Terminal 
Company.     He's  got  to  keep  his  mouth  shut. 

Mr.  S.  What  did  you  ever  support  him  in  the  first  place 
for? 

SuL.  For  two  reasons.  Kendrick  wanted  somebody  for 
District  Attorney  who  wouldn't  bother  the  Terminal  Company, 
and  Crosby's  friend  Finkelstein  wanted  him  to  run.  The  Jew 
put  up  a  rare  campaign  fund  for  Crosby  with  the  understand- 
ing that  we  run  him  on  the  Republican  ticket. 

Mr.  S.  How  was  it  the  Democratic  boss  helped  to  support 
a  Republican  ? 

SuL.  The  Republicans  haven't  been  doing  much  in  my  dis- 
trict in  the  last  few  years.  Now  Doyle,  the  alderman  from  the 
ward,  was  to  come  up  for  reelection  the  next  year.  The 
chances  were  that  without  the  Republicans'  help  an  Independ- 
ent would  have  been  elected.  So  I  supported  Crosby  on  the 
Republican  ticket.  In  return  for  this  the  Republicans  agreed 
not  to  put  up  a  candidate  for  alderman  the  following  year. 

Mr.  S.     Why,  you  didn't  support  him  openly? 

SuL.  No,  we  started  a  young  men's  Republican  associa- 
tion, and  had  the  rich  brewer's  best  beer  by  the  hogshead,  and 
fireworks,  and  speeches,  and  plenty  of  money.  We  elected 
Crosby,  and  had  some  of  the  money  left  over  to  elect  our  man 
this  year  with. 

Mr.  S.     Are  you  sure  of  your  ward  this  coming  election  ? 

SuL.  Well,  I  ought  to.  I  can  call  every  man  in  the  ward 
by  his  first  name,  and  I  know  how  many  are  in  his  family.  I 
can  tell  within  one  per  cent,  of  what  the  vote  of  my  ward 
will  be. 

Efiter  John  J.  Crosby,  c,  in  an  excited  manner. 

Cros.  What  the  devil  do  you  mean  by  commanding  me  to 
come  up  here  when  I  was  dining  with  a  party  of  friends  ? 

SuL.  Crosby,  Sherman  said,  "  War  is  hell,"  but  war  won't 
be  anything  to  what  is  going  to  take  place  between  you  and  J, 
if  you  don't  cut  out  this  reform  business. 

Mr.  S.     What  do  you  mean  by  summoning  me  to  court? 

SuL.     You  keep  quiet,  Seabury ;  I  guess  I  can  run  this  man. 

Cros.  Run  me?  Ha!  You're  up  against  the  stiffest 
proposition  you  ever  tackled. 


THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY  2; 

SUL.     Wliat  are  you  sore  about  ? 

Ckos.  Sore?  I'm  not  sore,  but  I'm  sick  and  tired  of  this 
dirty,  rotten,  political  corruption.  Tired  of  graft.  Tired  of 
being  bossed  by  you. 

SuL.     What's  the  idea  of  the  summons? 

Mr.  S.     That's  what  I'm  trying  to  find  out. 

Ckos.  You'll  find  out  when  you  get  into  court.  Is  this 
what  you  gentlemen  called  me  here  for  ? 

SuL.  No.  I  called  you  here  to  tell  you  that  unless  you  cut 
out  this  Sunday-school  reform  movement  I'll  withdraw  my  sup- 
port and  defeat  you  in  the  coming  election. 

Cros.  Oh,  that's  the  idea.  Withdraw  your  support  if  you 
like  ;  I'll  run  and  be  elected  without  it.     (Crosses  to  l.) 

Mr.  S.  Don't  be  a  fool.  You  know  you  can't  be  elected 
without  Sullivan's  support. 

SuL.  Run  alone.  You'll  get  about  twenty  votes.  Now, 
Crosby,  I  want  you  to  understand  me.  You  withdraw  this 
summons,  and  stand  true  to  your  friends,  or  by  the  gods  we'll 
have  war  to  the  end.  I've  dealt  with  such  men  as  you  before. 
Look  at  Fitzpatrick,  Doyle,  Connelly,  and  even  my  own  cousin, 
Tim  Sullivan.  Every  one  of  them  had  gone  as  high  as  you 
have  when  they  got  it  into  their  heads  they  were  the  whole 
show.  Look  at  them  now ;  every  one  of  them  is  down  and  out. 
I  tell  you  I'm  the  whole  show.  A  nice  story  we  can  make  of 
your  dealings  with  the  Terminal  Company,  The  graft  as  you 
call  it.  This  world  is  full  of  graft,  and  if  you  don't  get  in  on 
it  some  other  fellow  will.  Think  of  the  chances  of  making  a 
name  and  a  position  for  yourself  you  are  throwing  away. 

Mr.  S.  Yes,  you  don't  realize  who  Sullivan  is,  and  what  he 
can  do  for  you. 

Cros.  {at  table).  What  Sullivan  is  ?  Oh,  I  know  what 
Sullivan  is.  Patrick  Homer  Sullivan  is  a  politician,  and  Chi- 
cago is  owned  by  politicians.  Twice  a  year  the  dear  little  pub- 
lic march  to  the  ballot  box  and  kid  themselves  that  they  are 
electing  their  city  government,  but  that  is  a  bluff  and  a  sham ; 
you,  and  men  like  you,  are  the  ones  that  rule  Chicago.  I 
realize  your  power.  I  know  you  have  campaign  funds  at  your 
disposal;  you've  got  the  machine  at  your  back,  and  there  is 
nothing  you  would  hesitate  to  do  to  accomplish  your  end,  even 
bribery.  That's  our  |X)litics,  and  I  am  through  with  it  from 
that  angle.  {Rises  and  goes  toward  door.)  No  njatter  what 
I  have  been  in  the  past  even  if  it  is  your  tool.  Hereafter  I  will 
be  no  man's  man  ;  I'll  appeal  to  the  people.     My  future  is  still 


28  THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY 

before  me.  Withdraw  your  support  if  you  like ;  I'll  run  just  the 
same  and  be  elected,  pledged  to  the  people  for  their  interest. 
Good-day,  gentlemen.  [Exit^  c. 

Mr.  S.     Looks  as  if  I'd  go  to  court. 

SuL.  Don't  worry  about  that  now.  Your  lawyer  will  put 
that  off  until  after  the  election. 

Mr.  S.  What  good  will  that  do?  You  admit  that  Crosby 
is  strong,  and  has  a  good  chance  of  being  reelected. 

SuL.  Yes,  he  is  strong,  but  he  won't  be  reelected  if  I  can 
help  it. 

Mr.  S.  Who's  the  Democratic  nominee  for  District  At- 
torney ? 

SuL.  Danny  Murray,  Seabury.  Will  you  support  him? 
He's  just  the  kind  of  a  man  we  want,  and  say,  we'll  work  the 
wedge  on  Crosby. 

Mr.  S.     What  do  you  mean  by  the  wedge  ? 

SuL.  Run  an  Independent  Republican,  and  split  Crosby's 
vote. 

Mr.  S.     Where  are  you  going  to  get  him  ? 

SuL.  Go  looking  for  him.  He  won't  come  to  us.  We've 
got  to  have  some  young  fellow  who  is  a  good  talker  and  a  good 
mixer ;  some  one  who  has  money — enough  so  they  won't  say  he 
is  after  the  graft. 

Mr.  S.     How  would  Wellington  do  ? 

SuL.  He's  too  strong  a  man.  He  might  get  elected.  We 
couldn't  control  him. 

Mr.  S.     There's  Arthur  Crawford. 

SuL.  He  is  a  silk  stocking  sport,  and  wouldn't  mix  with 
the  crowd.  We've  got  to  have  some  one  who  is  popular.  I 
was  thinking  of  young  Kendrick. 

Mr.  S.  Why,  he  is  in  college,  and  never  tried  a  case  in  his 
life. 

SuL.     He's  a  member  of  the  bar,  isn't  he? 

Mr.  S.     Yes ;  but  what  will  the  people  think  ? 

SuL.  Think  !  the  people  don't  think.  Kendrick  {hitting 
table)  is  our  man.     Can  I  reach  him  by  'phone? 

Mr.  S.  No,  he  is  playing  in  the  game  to-day.  He'll  be 
back  here  after  the  game.  He  and  his  friend  always  dress  up 
in  Dick's  room  so  as  to  have  the  benefit  of  the  showers.  You 
know  there  aren't  any  at  the  grounds. 

SuL.     He'll  be  back  here  pretty  quick,  won't  he? 

Mr.  S.  I  imagine  in  about  half  or  three  quarters  of  an 
hour. 


THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY  29 

Enter  Aunt  H.,  r. 

Aunt  H.  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Sullivan  ?  William,  Dor- 
othy has  been  waiting  to  see  the  game  from  this  window. 

Mr.  S.  Oh,  yes,  I  forgot.  Supposing  we  go  down  to  the 
smoking-room  and  talk  this  over,  Sullivan  ? 

SuL.     All  right.  \_Exeunt,  R. 

Aunt  H.  {going  to  door).     Dorothy ! 

Dor.     Yes. 

Aunt  H.  Mr.  Sullivan  and  your  father  have  gone  to  the 
smoking-room,  so  you  can  come  in  here  if  you  wish  to. 

Enter  Dor.,  r. 

Dor.     Oh,  I  can  see  ever  so  much  better  here. 

Aunt  H.     Who  is  winning  the  game  ? 

Dor.  'Tisn't  over  yet.  They're  pretty  well  along  in  the 
second  half.     And  neither  side  has  scored. 

Aunt  H.     What  are  they  doing  now  ? 

Dor.  Just  exchanging  punts.  The  University  has  just 
kicked  to  Michigan.  One  of  their  backs  is  waiting  to  catch  it. 
He's  got  it.  There  he  goes.  Dick's  waiting  to  tackle  him. 
Oh,  he  missed.  He's  got  by  two  or  three  other  men.  There's 
Billy.  Oh,  get  him,  Billy.  Hurrah  I  Auntie,  they've  got 
the  ball  on  our  forty-yard  line. 

Aunt  H.     Does  that  mean  they  are  winning  ? 

Dor.  Our  team  holding  them.  Oh,  if  they  could  hold  them 
like  that  every  time. 

Aunt  H.     Don't  they  get  penalized  for  holding  ? 

Dor.  Not  that  kind.  The  boys  have  thrown  them  for  a 
loss,  and  Michigan  has  got  to  kick.  Yes,  and  they're  going 
to,  too.  Their  guard  has  dropped  back.  He  must  be  their 
punter.  He's  got  the  ball.  He's  not  kicking.  It's  a  forward 
pass.  He's  gone  to  the  right  of  the  line  and  thrown  it  to  their 
end.  The  ends  have  got  it.  Why  don't  you  men  tackle  him? 
He's  gone  through  the  whole  team.  No,  there's  our  quarter- 
back ;  he's  got  him. 

Aunt  H.     Where  are  they  now  ? 

Dor.  They're  on  our  fifteen-yard  line.  They  are  lining 
up  again.  Why,  it  looks  as  if  they  are  going  to  punt.  Oh, 
they're  trying  to  kick  a  goal.  They've  kicked.  Oh,  it's  over, 
it's  over,  it's  over.  Auntie,  they've  got  five  points.  Only  five 
or  six  minutes  to  play.  We  can't  score  in  that  time;  the  game 
is  lost,  the  game  is  lost. 


30  THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY 

Aunt  H.  (rising).  Why,  Dorothy,  this  isn't  a  matter  of 
life  and  death.  It's  only  a  game  of  football.  We  can't  win 
all  the  time. 

Dor.  I  know,  but  think  how  bad  the  boys  will  feel.  Dick 
and  Bob.  They're  at  it  again.  Our  boys  are  first  receiving  their 
kick  off.  It  dropped  right  in  Bob's  hands.  They're  forming 
the  wedge.  Fine  interference,  fine.  There  they  go.  Oh, 
they've  made  twenty  yards.     He's  left   his  interference.     A 

man  tackles  Bobby,  by Fine,   fine.     He's  on  his  feet, 

and  is  still.  Faster,  Bobby,  faster.  He's  down,  no,  he's  up 
again.  Go  on,  goon,  hurry,  hurry.  They're  after  you,  there's 
a  man  right  behind  you.  Their  quarter-back  is  waiting  to 
tackle.  Oh,  dodge  him,  dodge  him.  Bob  gave  him  the 
straight  arm.  Go  on,  go  on.  Only  five  yards  to  gain. 
Speed,  speed.  Oh,  it's  over,  Auntie,  it's  over.  Hurrah  ! 
Hurrah  !  Just  in  time,  for  the  referee  has  blown  his  whistle, 
six  to  five. 

Aunt  H.     Well,  it's  over.     I'm  so  glad. 

Enier  Sul.  andliK.  S.,  R. 

SUL.     It's  just  as  I  tell  you,  Seabury,  just  as  I  tell  you. 
Dor.     Dick  has  kicked  a  goal ;  we've  won,  six  to  five. 

{Tdephone  rings.) 

Aunt  H.     Hello.     Yes,  this  is  Mr.   Seabury's  residence. 

Just  a  minute,  and  I'll  see William,  Mr.  Phinney  is  on 

the  line  and  wants  to  know  if  you  are  in  ? 

Mr.  S.     Tell  him  I'm  out. 

Aunt  H.  I  never  told  a  lie  in  my  life,  and  I  don't  intend 
to  begin  now.     You'll  have  to  answer  it  yourself. 

Mr.  S.     Sullivan,  will  you  answer  that  for  me  ? 

Sul.  (answering  *  phone).  Mr.  Seabury  has  just  left  for  his 
club ;  you  can  probably  reach  him  there.     Good-bye. 

Enter  Dick  and  Bob.,  c,  helping  Billy. 

Billy  (sitting  in  morris  chair).  I'm  not  hurt,  and  no 
bones  are  broken,  but  I'm  badly  twisted. 

Aunt  H.  This  carpet  will  be  ruined  with  all  this  mud; 
shoo  fly,  shoo  fly. 

{^Exeunt,  Dick,  Billy,  Bob  and  Aunt  H.,  r. 

Mr.  S.  Just  a  minute,  Mr.  Kendrick  ;  let  me  make  you  ac- 
quainted with  Mr.  Sullivan.     Mr.  Sullivan,  Mr.  Kendrick. 


THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY  3 1 

Bob.  I'm  pleased  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Sullivan.  I  often 
heard  my  father  speak  of  you. 

SuL.  Yes,  I  did  know  your  father  slightly.  You  are 
probably  aware,  Mr.  Kendrick,  that  I  am  somewhat  interested 
in  our  city  politics.  In  the  coming  election,  I  have  been  look- 
ing for  a  man  to  nominate  for  District  Attorney.  After  look- 
ing over  a  number  of  available  men,  without  finding  any  of 
them  qualified  to  fill  the  position,  I  turned  to  Mr.  Seabury  to 
see  if  he  could  suggest  some  one,  and  he  suggested  you. 

Bob.     Me  ? 

Mr.  S.  Yes.  If  Mr.  Sullivan  succeeds  in  having  you 
nominated  for  the  office,  will  you  accept  and  run  ? 

Bob.  District  Attorney  !  As  you  must  know,  Mr.  Sullivan, 
I  am  still  at  college.  To  be  sure  I  am  a  member  of  the  bar, 
but  I  never  tried  a  case  in  my  life.  I'm  interested  in  athletics 
and  I  promised  the  captain  of  the  team  I'd  stay  in  college 
until  after  the  season  is  over.     I  thank  you  for  your  ofi'er,  Mr. 

Sullivan,  but {Looks  at  hand  and  sees  ribbon^  then  looks 

at  Dor.)     I'll  accept. 

Mr.  S.     I'm  glad  you  accepted,  Kendrick. 

Bob.  Of  course,  if  I'm  elected  I  will  serve,  to  the  best  of 
my  ability,  the  people  who  elected  me. 

Mr.  S.     What ! 

SuL.  Of  course  you  will.  Of  course  I  would  not  have  you 
do  anything  else.  If  you  will  pardon  me,  I  will  be  going  on 
my  way.  Good -afternoon.  Miss  Seabury.  I'll  be  up  to  see 
you  to-night. 

Bob  {to  Mr.  S.).     The  most  important  thing  of  all. 

[Exeunt  Mr.  S.  and  Sul.,  c. 

Dor.     I'm  so  glad,  Bobby. 


CURTAIN 


ACT  II 

SCENE.— 77/^  District  Attorney's  office, 

JiMMiE  {sitting  in  chair  ^  tilted  back^  with  his  feet  upon  desk^ 
reading  aloud  dime  novels  with  a  red  cover).  *'  Dead  shot 
Pete  stole  stealthily  upon  the  Indian  encampment,  and  there 
the  sight  which  met  his  gaze  was  enough  to  freeze  an  ordinary 
man's  blood.  The  Indians  had  beautiful  Mary  tied  to  a  tree, 
while  they  were  engaged  in  their  fiendish  war  dance.  Did 
Dead  shot  Pete  hesitate  ?  Not  he.  Placing  his  knife  between 
his  teeth,  and  gripping  a  ninety-six  caliber  revolver  in  each 
hand,  he  rushed  into  their  midst  to  do  or  die.  With  the  first 
discharge  of  his  artillery,  ten  of  the  fifteen  Indians  dropped 
dead  in  their  tracks.  Taking  one  of  the  remaining  five  by  the 
ankles,  and  swinging  him  around  his  head  as  a  club,  he  sent 
four  of  the  five  to  the  Happy  Hunting  Grounds.  Clinching 
with  the  last  redskin,  he  sent  his  soul  to  the  Great  Spirit.  It 
was  but  the  work  of  an  instant  to  cut  the  ropes  which  held  the 
beautiful  Mary." 

Enter  Dick  and  Billy  at  R. 

Billy.     What  are  you  doing,  kid  ?    Studying  law  ? 
Jim.  (^Jumping  up  from  seat  and  putting  book  under  coat), 
Naw  !     History. 

Dick.     Does  the  District  Attorney  happen  to  be  in  ? 
Jim.     No,  sir.     Not  yet ;  expect  him  any  minute. 
Billy.     Yes,  you  looked  a  moment  ago  as  if  you  did. 

(Billy  sits  down  by  desk  very  quiet  and  thoughtful.) 

Jim.  Well,  I've  got  to  do  something  to  kill  time.  There 
ain't  any  Injuns  around  here  to  kill. 

Dick.  If  you  don't  mind.  Diamond  Dick  Jr.,  we'll  wait 
until  Mr.  Kendrick  comes  in. 

Jim.  {going  out  r.).     All  right,  I  don't  care. 

Dick.  I  wonder  what  makes  Bob  so  late  this  morning  ?  I 
understand  he  is  usually  here  long  before  this.  {Stops  ;  looks 
at  Billy.)     Say,  what's  the  matter  with  you  ? 

32 


THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY  33 

Billy.     Nothing ! 

Dick.     Well,  what  makes  you  so  quiet  ?    Anything  wrong  ? 

Billy.     Yep. 

Dici;  (sii/ifi^  dowti).     What  ? 

Billy.     Nothing  in  particular. 

Dick.  Something  is  wrong,  but  it  is  not  particular.  What 
is  it,  then  ? 

Billy.  I  didn't  say  it  wasn't. — Yes,  I  do  too;  guess  I'm  a 
little  mixed  up.     What  I  need  is  a  little  advice. 

Dick.     Advice ! 

Billy.  Yes,  advice.  Anything  out  of  the  ordinary  in  ask- 
ing for  advice? 

Dick.  No.  Asking  for  advice  is  all  right,  but  why  do  you 
ask  me  ? 

Billy.     I've  got  to  ask  somebody.     If  I  don't,  I'll  bust. 

Dick.  Well,  I'm  not  a  patented,  automatic  advice  giving 
machine,  but  the  best  I  have  is  at  your  service. 

Billy  {without  looking  up).     Thanks.     {Pause.) 

Dick.     What  do  you  want  to  know  ? 

Billy.     You  see  these  pictures. 

{Takes  two  pictures  from  coat.) 

Dick  {giving  over  to  Billy).     What  are  they  pictures  of? 

Billy.  Houses,  dogs,  cats,  horses,  automobiles,  any  old 
thing.  They're  not  pictures  of  girls,  oh,  no.  Just  pictures  of 
two  charming  young  ladies,  understand  ? 

Dick.  Yes,  I  understand,  but  there's  no  need  of  getting 
huffy  about  it. 

Billy.  I'm  not  huffy.  I'm  excited.  Can  you  keep  a 
secret  ?     (Dick  nods  assent.)     I'm  in  love. 

Dick.     With  the  pictures  ? 

Billy.     The  pictures  nothing.     The  girls. 

Dick.  You  don't  mean  you're  in  love  with  both  of  them — 
Miss  Whitney  and  Miss  Marshall  ? 

Billy.  That's  the  situation.  I  don't  call  them  '  Miss ' 
though.  Just  Peggy  Whitney  and  Polly  Marshall.  Peggy 
and  Polly  for  short. 

Dick.  Hold  on  a  minute  ;  see  if  I've  got  this  thing  clear. 
Oh,  you  mutton  head,  you  don't  mean  to  tell  me  you're  in 
love  with  both  girls  ? 

Billy.  Yep.  That's  the  story.  When  I'm  with  Peggy, 
I'm  in  love  with  her,  and  when  I'm  with  Polly,  I'm  in — well, 


34  THE    DISTRICT   ATTORNEY 

my  lieart  goes  like  this  {thumping  heart),  and  my  head  is  one 
continuous  merry-go-round.     Say — how  am  1  going  to  fix  it? 

Dick.     Fix  it.     Fix  what  ? 

Billy.  What  are  we  talking  about  ?  How  am  I  going  to 
get  out  of  it  ?  I  don't  mean  that.  How  am  I  going  to  get 
into  it?     Say,  on  the  level,  Dick,  I've  got  it  bad. 

Dick.  Well — I — should — say  you  had.  And  they're  both 
in  love  with  you  ? 

Billy.     How  do  I  know  ? 

Dick.     Why  don't  you  ask  them? 

Billy.  Ask  them  ?  That  would  be  a  fine  thing  to  do. 
Suppose  they  should  both  accept?  Do  you  think  I'm  a 
Mormon  ? 

Dick.  I'd  hate  to  tell  you  what  I  think  you  are.  But  you 
remind  me  of  one  of  those  little  birds  with  four  legs,  that  runs 
around  and  sings  like  this.     {Grunts  like  a  pig.) 

Billy.  Yes,  I  know  I'm  a  hog,  but  I'm  asking  you  to  help 
me  keep  from  being  one. 

Dick.  Then  you  want  me  to  diagnose  your  case  and  sug- 
gest a  remedy?  Listen,  here  is  the  decision  of  the  supreme 
court.  I  would  propose  to  the  first  one  I  had  a  chance  to,  and 
if  she  didn't  accept  I'd  propose  to  the  other  one.  If  by  any 
chance  she  refused  me — well,  this  town  is  on  the  edge  of  a 
mighty  big  lake. 

Billy  {taking  Dick's  hand).  Dick,  you're  a  brick.  If  I 
can  get  my  nerve  up  I'll  do  it  to-night.  {Starts  away  ;  comes 
back.)  Have  you  had  any  experience  being  "  best  man  "  ?  If 
you  haven't  you  better  study  up  on  it.  (Enter  Bob,  at  R.) 
Ah  !  here's  the  boy  now. 

Dick.  This  Mr.  Kendrick?  My  name  is  Seabury.  Let 
me  introduce  my  friend  Billy.     Billy,  Mr.  Kendrick. 

Billy.     Glad  to  know  you,  Mr.  Kendrick. 

Dick,  We  haven't  seen  you  for  so  long.  Bob,  that  we 
thought  we  had  better  go  through  the  formality  of  an  introduc- 
tion, so  you  would  know  who  you  were  talking  to. 

Billy.     Dick's  got  the  right  idea,  stranger. 

Bob.  Well,  sit  down,  you  fellows,  and  quit  your  kidding ; 
make  yourself  to  home  and  tell  me  some  news. 

Dick.     Tell  you  some  news  ?    You  mean  you  tell  us  the  news. 

Billy.  I  picked  up  three  different  papers  this  morning  and 
the  front  page  of  each  was  disfigured  with  a  photograph  of 
Robert  W.  Kendrick,  the  energetic  District  Attorney. 

Bob.     I  see  you  are  just  as  big  a  jollier  as  ever,  Billy. 


J 


THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY  35 

Dick.  Oh,  that's  no  jolly.  Here,  see  what  the  Herald 
says  :  **  The  grand  jury  has  been  in  secret  session  at  the  court- 
house the  past  week.  Although  it  is  impossible  to  obtain  any 
facts,  it  is  understood  that  District  Attorney  Kendrick  has  been 
presenting  some  sensational  evidence.  It  is  rumored  that  some 
of  the  packing  houses  of  the  stock-yards  have  secret  mains 
through  which  they  have  stolen  billions  of  gallons  of  the  city's 
water.  It  is  understood  that  investigations  have  been  made 
and  the  pipes  actually  uncovered." 

Billy.     What  do  you  know  about  that  ? 

Bob.  You  mustn't  believe  everything  you  see  in  the  papers. 
I  saw  interesting  news  in  one  of  them  last  evening  regarding 
the  attentions  of  Mr.  Richard  Seabury  to  Miss  Beverly  Calvert, 
but  I  know  there  wasn't  any  truth  in  it. 

Dick.  Well,  as  it  happens,  smarty,  there  is.  We're  en- 
gaged.    But  keep  it  quiet  a  while. 

Billy.     Oh,  yes,  we'll  keep  it  quiet,  nit. 

Bob.  Don't  keep  it  quiet.  You  know  good  things  leak 
out.     Let  me  be  the  first  to  congratulate  you. 

Dick.  Thanks.  If  you  get  a  hustle  on,  perhaps  we  can 
have  a  double  wedding. 

Billy  {with  handkerchief  to  eyes).  I  suppose  it  is  the  cus- 
tom to  congratulate  a  prospective  bridegroom,  but  honestly, 
Dick,  I  pity  you  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart.  When  a  man 
gets  into  the  hands  of  the  goddess  of  love  he  is  like  a  blind 
man  ;  he  needs  some  one  to  hold  his  hand  and  lead  him. 

Dick.  If  you  wasn't  such  a  little  fellow  I'd  wallop  you.  It 
was  only  just  now  that  Billy  was  telling  me  he  had  met  his 
affinity. 

Bob.     How'd  it  happen,  Billy  ? 

BiLLV.  Well,  it  was  like  this.  We  were  all  standing  side 
by  each,  separately  together  in  a  group,  and  I  was  about  to 
proceed,  to  start  in,  to  commence,  to  begin  to  say,  "If  my 
presumptions  are  presumable,  as  I  presume  they  are,  I  phrenoxi- 
cate  by  the  peculiar  conditions  of  the  atmosphere  we  will  have 
an  eriotic  storm  a  few  hours  hence  from  the  present  moment." 
Just  then  the  young  ladies  passed  by.  They  looked  lonesome 
and  I — well — I  saw  her  home. 

B(JB.     Have  you  got  to  the  love-making  stage  yet? 

Billy.     Yes — er — why,  that  is,  I'm  trying  to. 

Dick.     How  you  making  out? 

Billy.  Not  very  well.  Sent  them  some  flowers  the  other 
night  and  they  returned  them. 


36  THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY 

Bob.  Fine !  You're  making  good.  All  girls  do  that  at 
first. 

Billy.  Then  1  called  on  them  when  they  were  in,  and  they 
wasn't  in. 

Dick.     All  those  things  are  in  the  first  stage. 

Billy.     How  do  you  know  ? 

Bob.     Dick's  graduated  from  the  amateur  to  the  professional. 

Billy.     I  wish  I  could  make  a  hit,  as  Dick  did. 

Bob.     Cheer  up,  Billy,  you'll  get  there  yet. 

Dick.     Well,  Bob,  we  must  be  going ;  got  an  engagement. 

Billy.     Yes,  we  only  dropped  in  to  say  hello. 

Bob  {looking  at  the  two  pictures  Billy  left  on  his  desk). 
What  have  we  here  ? 

Dick.     Billy  left  those  for  you  to  add  to  your  rogues'  gallery. 

Billy.     Such  words  are  out  of  place. 

Bob.     So  were  the  pictures. 

Billy  {taking pictures).     Once  again — good-bye. 

Dick.     So-long. 

Bob.     Come  in  again.     {Exeunt  Dick  and  Billy,  r.     Bob 

at  desk  writitig.      Telephone  rings.)     Hello! Yes,  this  is 

the  District  Attorney Now  you  see  here,  Sullivan ;  if  you've 

got  any  business  to  transact  with  me  you  come  where  I  am. 
Good-bye. 

{Slams  down  receiver,  works  at  desk,  takes  a  few  papers  in 
hand,  exit  at  l.  Jim.  slowly  opens  door  at  v..,  pokes  in 
head,  goes  over  to  desk  and  telephones.) 

Jim.    Main  7248 Hello!    Maxwell  Soap  Company.    Can 

I  speak  to  Willie  O'Brien?  (Whistles,  ''  Take  Me  Up  to  the 
Ball  Game.'')  Hello,  Willie.  This  is  Jimmie.  I'm  all  tired 
out ;  never  got  home  till  two  o'clock.  Say,  can  you  get  off 
and  come  up  to  the  ball  game  this  afternoon?     I've  got  a 

couple  of  passes  for  the  grand  stand Well,  I  haven't  asked 

the  old  man  yet.  If  I  can  fix  it  up  I'll  see  you  at  half-past  one 
in  front  of  the  Commonwealth  Hotel.  You  bring  the  pop-corn 
and  I'll  bring  the  weed.     Good-bye.  [Exit,  at  r. 

Enter  Bob  and  Cros.,  at  L. 

Bob.  I  read  over  the  evidence  on  the  Terminal  Company 
case  last  night,  and  I  fail  to  see,  unless  we  have  the  name  of 
the  third  party,  how  we  can  hope  to  secure  a  conviction. 

Cros.     I  cannot  possibly  give  you  that  name,  Mr.  Kendrick. 


THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY  37 

I'm  sorry.  If  I  could  I  would  have  told  you  before.  I've 
given  you  all  the  evidence  in  my  possession,  but  that  one  thing 
1  can't. 

Bob.  I  see  no  good  reason  why  you  shouldn't  tell  this 
name,  and  as  assistant  District  Attorney  I  beheve  it  is  your 
duty  to  do  so. 

Cros.     Yes,  but  you  do  not  realize 

Bob.  Let  us  analyze  our  position  and  see  how  we  stand. 
You  were  private  secretary  to  my  father,  and  while  in  his 
employ  as  such  you  met  Mr.  Sullivan.  You  knew  that  Sea- 
bury,  Sullivan,  and  this  third  party  were  the  financiers  of  the 
Terminal  Company,  who  had  a  bill  before  the  City  Council 
relative  to  the  building  of  a  subway  by  the  company. 

Cros.  Yes,  the  Terminal  Company  was  to  build  and  pay  for 
the  proposed  tunnel.  The  understanding  was  that  at  the  end 
of  the  twenty  years  the  subway  was  to  become  the  property  of 
the  city. 

Bob.     Exactly,  and  this  bill  passed  the  Common  Council. 

Cros.     Yes,  on  the  twenty  year  proposition. 

Bob.  Then  the  bill  was  submitted  to  the  Board  of  Alder- 
men. Sullivan,  who  was  alderman  from  the  Seventeenth  Ward, 
introduced  an  amendment  to  the  original  bill,  that  the  agree- 
ment be  allowed  to  run  for  ninety-nine  years  instead  of  twenty 
years. 

Cros.     That's  right,  so  far. 

Bob.  It  was  voted  on  and  passed  by  one  vote.  Now,  fol- 
low me  closely.  Sullivan  saw  before  the  vote  that  the  Board 
would  be  equally  divided  on  the  bill.  O'Connell,  the  alder- 
man from  the  Sixth  Ward,  was  taken  sick  while  in  one  of  the 
committee  rooms  and  he  was  sent  home  by  Sullivan,  who  evi- 
dently telephoned  to  Seabury  telling  him  to  send  you  to  the 
Aldermanic  Chamber. 

Cros.     Exactly ;  that's  right. 

Bob.  When  you  arrived  Sullivan  happened  to  be  busy 
writing,  and  asked  you  to  take  the  seat  next  to  him  which  hap- 
pened to  be  the  one  just  left  by  O'Connell.  As  I  understand 
it,  you  bore  a  striking  likeness  to  O'Connell ;  in  fact  so  strong 
was  the  resemblance  that  the  other  alderman  thought  O'Connell 
was  present. 

Cros.     No  one  knew  O'Connell  was  sick  but  Sullivan. 

Bob.  Then  the  franchise  is  illegal,  for  the  simple  reason 
that  it  has  never  passed  a  quorum  of  tlie  board.  And  it  is  up 
to  the  District  Attorney's  office  to  prosecute  Seabury,  Sullivan 


38  THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY 

and  this  third  party  whose  identity  you  hide.  Of  course  your 
turning  state's  evidence  strengthens  your  position. 

Cros.  Yes,  I  think  so,  when  the  court  learns  that  I  had  no 
intent  of  fraud,  but  that  events  came  so  quick  that  I  did  as 
Sullivan  told  me  to  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment. 

Bob.  I  understand  your  position,  and  when  the  court  fully 
realizes  that  after  my  successful  campaign  against  you  at  the 
last  election,  you,  knowing  the  exact  status  of  this  political 
treachery,  so  generously  offered  to  serve  as  assistant  District  At- 
torney in  an  endeavor  to  bring  these  men  to  trial,  it  will  re- 
dound to  your  credit.  I  must  say  that  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
your  help,  backed  by  your  experience  in  the  office,  I  would 
have  accomplished  little  against  this  ring  of  grafters  headed  by 
Sullivan. 

Cros.  Sullivan  is  one  of  the  cleverest  politicians  in  this  part 
of  the  country.  He's  got  unlimited  backing,  and  is  able  to  do 
almost  anything,  and  get  away  with  it. 

Bob.  What  you  say  is  largely  true,  but  we'll  get  him  yet. 
I  have  a  report  here  from  Pinkerton.  They  have  evidence 
enough  to  cut  short  his  career.  The  report  says  that  Clark, 
McCarthy  and  Whitehouse,  all  of  last  year's  Common  Council, 
have  stated  in  the  presence  of  witness  that  Sullivan  offered  them 
a  bribe  for  their  vote. 

Cros.     Yes,  I  know  that  is  the  case. 

Bob.  Sullivan  has  had  his  fling,  but  I  tell  you,  Crosby, 
Sullivan's  day  is  at  an  end. 

Cros.  Don't  be  too  sure.  I  thought  I  had  him  cornered 
once  myself.  He  was  connected  with  that  gas  scandal,  and 
just  when  I  had  him  where  I  thought  he  couldn't  possibly  es- 
cape, and  the  evidence  was  direct  and  overwhelmingly  against 
him,  he  hired  a  friend  to  confess  and  take  all  the  blame,  and 
then  this  friend  skipped  the  country. 

Enter  Jim.,  <z/ r. 

Jim.     Two  ladies  to  see  you,  Mr.  Kendrick. 

Bob.  Show  them  in.  {^Exit  Jim.,  at  r.)  Be  that  as  it  may. 
If  you  give  a  man  rope  enough  he  will  hang  himself.  I  wish 
you  would  look  into  that  Lee's  case  and  see  if  the  evidence  is 
strong  enough  to  secure  a  conviction. 

Cros.     I'll  do  that  at  once.  \^Exit  at  l. 

Enter  Jim.,  at  Yt,.,  followed  by  Peg,  andVo\..     Exit  ]im.,  r. 
Peg.     Oh,  Mr.  Kendrick !  something  awful  has  happened. 


THE    DISTRICT   ATTORNEY  39 

Pol.     I  just  can't  believe  it  possible. 

Peg.  Who  would  have  thought  they  would  have  had  the 
audacity  to  do  it  ? 

Pol.  And  in  daylight,  too.  The  house,  you  know,  was 
full  of  guests,  every  one  of  whom  I  can  vouch  for. 

Peg.  But  to  think  that  it  happened  to  both  of  us  the  same 
day.  At  about  the  same  time.  (Peg.  j/Vj.)  In  almost  the 
same  way. 

Pol.  It  must  have  been  the  work  of  one  person.  Don't 
you  think  so,  Mr.  Kendrick  ? 

Bob.     I  don't  know. 

Peg.  Why,  of  course  you  do.  The  full  account  of  it  was 
in  the  paper  this  morning. 

Pol.     You  don't  mean  that  you  haven't  heard  ? 

Bob.     No. 

Peg.     Both  Polly  and  I  have  been  robbed. 

Bob.     Robbed  !     How  ? 

Pol.     That's  what  we  came  to  you  to  find  out. 

Bob.     How  should  I  know  ? 

Peg.  Aren't  you  the  District  Attorney  ?  Don't  you  know 
all  the  bad  people? 

Bob.  Oh,  I  see  !  I'm  to  be  Sherlock  Holmes  and  find  the 
culprit  ? 

Pol.     Of  course.     You  can  do  that  easy. 

Bob.  Oh,  yes,  that's  my  side  line.  Supposing  you  tell  me 
how  it  happened,  and  what  was  taken. 

Peg.     Must  we  tell  him  our  secret,  Polly  ? 

Pol.  Suppose  so ;  I'll  do  it.  Peggy  and  I  have  each  lost 
a  picture. 

Bob.     a  picture?     You  don't  mean  paintings? 

Peg.     No,  photographs. 

Pol.  Some  that  no  one  knew  we  had  had  taken.  We  in- 
tended them  as  a  little  surprise  to  our  friends. 

(Bob  laughs.) 

Peg.     It's  no  laughing  matter,  Mr.  Kendrick. 

Bob.     Pardon  me.     Was  anything  else  taken  ? 

Pol.     No. 

Peg.     That  was  all. 

Bob.  Doesn't  it  seem  a  little  strange  that  an  ordinary  thief 
would  pass  many  valuable  things?  {Veg.  starts  to  speak.) 
Oh,  1  don't  mean  thnt  the  pictures  were  not  valuable,  but  such 
things  as  silver,  the  jewels  on  the  guests,  etc. 


40  THE    DISTRICT   ATTORNEY 

Pol.     We  never  thought  of  that. 

Peg.     Well,  weren't  we  stupid  ? 

Bob.  Your  burglar  was  not  the  ordinary  kind.  I  dare 
say  we  can  get  the  pictures  again. 

Pol.     r3idn't  1  tell  you  he  would  be  able  to  help  us? 

Peg.     No  wonder  Dorothy  likes  you  so  much. 

Bob.     Do  you  think  she  does  ? 

Pol.  Well,  I  should  say  she  did.  Every  time  we  see  her 
she  asks  us  if  we  have  heard  of  the  wonderful  things  Mr.  Ken- 
drick  has  been  doing.     And  it's  always  something  new. 

Bob.     I'm  afraid  you're  jollying  me. 

Pol.    No,  really. 

Peg.     Don't,  Polly,  you'll  make  him  conceited. 

Enter  Jim.,  at  yl.,  followed  by  Mr.  B. 

Jim.     Mr.  Brownell. 

Bob.     Hello,  Herb. ;  you  know  these  ladies,  I  believe? 

Mr.  B.  Yes,  indeed  (shaking  hands) j  for  some  time. 
When  I'm  not  camping  on  some  politician's  trail  I'm  the  society 
reporter.  Got  to  keep  busy  somehow.  Any  clue  to  your 
robbers  ? 

Pol.  We  were  just  speaking  to  Mr.  Kendrick  about  it.  He 
tells  us  we'll  get  the  pictures  back  again. 

Peg.     Ain't  that  just  grand  ? 

Mr.  B.     It  will  be  when  you  get  them. 

Bob.     Now  don't  put  me  in  wrong. 

Pol.  (rising).  I  know  you  will  do  what  you  can.  Whether 
you  are  successful  or  not  let  me  offer  my  thanks. 

Peg.     And  me,  too.     You  won't  lose  any  time,  will  you? 

Bob.     No,  indeed,  I'll  get  right  after  them. 

Pol.     Good-bye,  Mr.  Kendrick. 

Bob.     Good-bye. 

Mr.  B.  (to  Peg.).  Can't  you  fix  it  up  with  your  burglar  so 
he  will  do  another  job  at  your  house  to-night  ?  If  he  does  the 
chief  will  send  me  around  to  get  the  news. 

Peg.     I'll  try.     (Shakes  hands.) 

Pol.     Are  you  coming,  Peggy? 

Peg.     Yes ;  good-bye,  Mr.  Brownell. 


^-B.JGood.bye. 


(Exeunt  Pol.  and  Veg.,  at  r.     Mr.  B,  stands  looking  after 
them  with  back  to  Bob.) 


THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY  4I 

Bob.     Herb. 

Mr.  B.     Yes ;  say,  she's  some  girl. 

Bob.     What's  on  your  mind  besides  the  girl  ? 

Mr.  B.  Oh,  it  almost  slipped  my  mind.  Bob,  you've  got 
to  do  some  quick  thinking.     I've  word  that  SulHvan  has  got 

something  up  his  sleeve  that  he  intends Well,  look  what's 

here.  (S^^s  Peg.  's  handkerchief  in  chair  ;  picks  it  up  and  looks 
at  it.)  I'll  tell  you  about  it  later.  I've  got  to  give  this  to 
Peggy.     {Runs  off  ^.) 

Enter  Jim.,  at  r. 

Jim.  Mr.  Kendrick,  I've  just  got  a  telephone  message  from 
my  mother.  She  says  my  grandmother  that  died  yester- 
day is  going  to  be  buried  this  afternon.  I  didn't  tell  you  be- 
fore because  I  thought  it  was  going  to  be  to-morrow  afternoon. 

Bob.     What  was  your  mother's  name  before  she  married? 

Jim.     Bowker,  I  think  ma  said  it  was. 

Bob.  So  your  grandmother  passed  away  ?  Well,  that's  too 
bad.     What  was  the  disease  ? 

Jim.     The  measles. 

Bob.  What  did  you  tell  me  your  grandmother's  name 
was? 

Jim.     Mrs.  O'Connell. 

Bob.  Your  mother's  name  was  Bowker,  and  your  father's 
mother's  name  was  Burke,  and  here  is  another  grandmother, 
whose  name  is  Mrs.  O'Connell.     How's  that  ? 

Jim.     Oh,  this  mother — is — my  stepmother. 

Bob.     What  time  do  you  want  to  go  ? 

Jim.     In  about  an  hour. 

Bob.  Well,  I  guess  you  can  go.  Oh,  by  the  way,  Jimmie, 
tell  me  the  score  in  the  morning.  {Exit  Jim.  Enter  Dor. 
and  Aunt  H.)     My  I  but  this  is  a  pleasant  surprise  ! 

(Shakes  hands  with  both.) 

Dor.     We're  not  intruding  on  your  time,  are  we? 

Bob.  Not  at  all.  I  was  just  wishing  I  had  something  to 
keep  me  busy  for  a  few  minutes. 

Aunt  H.  Dorothy  has  been  telling  me  so  much  about  your 
cozy  offices,  that  I  wanted  very  much  to  come  up  and  see 
them. 

Bob.  I'm  glad  you  did.  There  is  not  much  to  see  here, 
but   from  the  window  in  Mr.  Crosby's  office  you  can  see  a 


42  THE   DISTRICT   ATTORNEY 

large  part  of  the  city,  and  part  of  the  lake.     Step  in  here,  and 

Mr.  Crosby  will 

[Exeunt  Aunt  H.  and  Bob,  at  l.     Bob  returns  at  once. 

Dor.     I'm  so  glad  to  see  you.  Bob. 

Bob.  Are  you?  It  does  seem  an  awful  long  while  since 
last  night. 

Dor.  I  believe  I  lay  awake  most  of  the  night,  thinking 
how  happy  we  shall  be. 

Bob.     Don't  you  think  I'm  a  lucky  chap? 

Dor.     That's  for  you  to  say. 

Bob.  Well,  I  do  say  it,  and  I've  got  the  ring  here  to  prove 
it.     {Produces  ring.) 

Dor.  Oh,  isn't  that  a  dream  !  How  can  I  ever  express  my 
thanks. 

Bob.  Don't  try  to.  Let  me.  {Enter  Sul.)  What  do  you 
mean  by  coming  in  here  this  way  ? 

Sul.  {shaking  fist  at  Bob).  Never  mind  !  never  mind ! 
I'll  wait  out  here,  but  I  want  to  see  you.  {^Exit^  at  r. 

Dor.     What  is  the  matter  with  Mr.  Sullivan  ? 

Bob.  I  don't  know  what  is  the  matter  with  him,  but  he 
acts  as  though  he  was  the  District  Attorney,  and  I  was  the 
office-boy. 

Dor.  Bobbie,  all  the  newspapers  the  past  week  have  been 
talking  about  Sullivan  having  strings  on  the  District  Attorney. 
That  isn't  true,  is  it  ? 

Bob.  You  know  me  better  than  that.  No  one  has  any 
strings  on  me,  unless  it  is  you,  and  they  will  soon  be  tied  in  a 
knot. 

Dor.  I  hope  so,  Bob ;  in  a  knot  that  will  never  be  undone. 
I  don't  suppose  I  ought  to  say  so,  but  I  dislike  Mr.  Sullivan. 
He  seems  to  have  a  great  deal  of  influence  with  father. 

Bob.     Yes,  I  know  he  has. 

Dor.     Indeed,  how  do  you  know? 

Bob.     Well,  I — that  is,  I  understand  he  has. 

Dor.  When  I  arrived  home  from  Mrs.  Boutwell's  reception 
last  Wednesday  night,  I  went  into  the  library  to  get  one  of  Mr. 
McCutcheon's  books,  and  there  I  saw  father  and  Mr.  Sullivan 
engaged  in  earnest  conversation.  Before  I  could  withdraw,  I 
heard  Mr.  Sullivan  say,  "If  he  gets  a  hold  of  that,  it  will  be 
all  up  with  us."  Then  father  said,  "  If  we  lose  that  ninety- 
nine  year  charter,  our  bonds  will  go  to  next  to  nothing." 

Bob.     I'm  afraid  you  must  have  been  eavesdropping. 

Dor.     No,  really,  I  wasn't.     But  the  best  of  it  was,  I  got 


THE    DISTRICT   ATTORNEY  43 

out  without  being  seen ;  what  I  heard  worried  me  so  that  I 
hardly  slept  a  wink  for  the  next  two  or  three  nights.  Of 
course,  what  I  have  told  you  you  won't  use  against  father  in 
any  way.     Perhaps  Auntie  and  1  had  better  be  going  now. 

Bob.  There  is  no  need  to  hurry.  Just  step  in  Mr.  Crosby's 
office  with  your  aunt,  until  I  see  Sullivan  ;  you  mustn't  worry 
over  what  you  have  heard.  All  things  come  out  right  in  the 
end.  (^Exit  Dor.,  l.  Bob  touches  button.  Enter  Jim.) 
Tell  Mr.  Sullivan  I  will  see  him  now.  \^Exit  Jim. 

Enter  SuL.  and  Mr.  S. 

SuL.     I  guess  the  pink  tea  is  over  now,  Seabury. 

Mr.  S.     What  pink  tea  is 

Bob  {coolly).  I  should  judge  by  the  way  you  came  in  here 
a  few  minutes  ago,  Mr.  Sullivan,  you  had  something  very  im- 
portant to  see  me  about. 

SuL.     You  know  what  I  want  to  see  you  about. 

Mr.  S.  Yes,  we  want  to  see  you  about  the  lie  you  have 
trumped  up  about  the  Seabury  Packing  Company  stealing  the 
city's  water  through  secret  mains. 

Bob.  Whether  that  is  a  lie  or  not,  we'll  soon  find  out. 
You  were  present  at  every  session  of  the  court,  as  well  as  I. 
The  evidence,  as  you  must  know,  is  strong.  All  that  remains 
before  the  case  goes  to  the  jury  is  my  summing  up. 

SuL.  What  do  you  expect  to  gain,  Kendrick?  Even  if 
you  secure  a  conviction  ? 

Bob.     Personally,  nothing  ;  as  District  Attorney,  justice. 

Mr.  S.     Justice  !     What  do  you  think  you  are,  an  angel? 

SuL.  Now  see  here,  Kendrick,  you  might  just  as  well 
understand  me  first  as  last.  I  want  you  to  nol.  pros,  this  case 
against  Seabury  for  lack  of  evidence.  Browning,  the  superin- 
tendent of  the  water  department,  is  willing  to  swear  that  he 
was  the  one  who  put  those  pipes  into  Seabury's  plant,  and  that 
the  meter  was  left  out  by  mistake. 

Mr.  S.  Yes,  and  that's  the  truth,  Kendrick.  It  was  ray 
money,  and  Sullivan's  influence,  that  put  you  in  this  office. 
The  people  like  you.  Chicago  will  shortly  be  looking  for  a 
new  mayor,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  you  shouldn't  be 
elected,  if  you  stand  by  those  who  stood  by  you  at  the  last 
election. 

SuL.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  my  backing,  you  would  never 
have  been  where  you  are  now. 

Bob.     That's  a  damnable  lie,  and  you  know  it.     Your  plan 


44  THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY 

was  to  run  me  on  the  Republican  ticket,  and  split  Crosby's 
vote,  and  have  Danny  Murray  elected,  a  man  whom  you  could 
have  controlled.  But  your  plan  failed.  Whether  this  case  is 
strong  or  not,  it  goes  to  the  jury.  Individually,  Sullivan,  this 
doesn't  implicate  you,  but  I  have  had  just  brought  to  my 
attention  the  fact  that  you  used  illegal  methods  to  change  the 
Terminal  Company's  charter  to  read  from  twenty  years  to 
ninety-nine  years. 

Mr.  S.     What ! 

SuL.  Illegal  methods  I  There  were  no  illegal  methods  used 
that  I  know  of. 

Bob.  Oh,  yes,  you  do ;  there's  no  need  to  deny  it.  Crosby 
has  turned  states'  evidence,  and  1  have  all  the  facts  in  the  case. 
All  I  need  to  put  you  all  behind  the  bars  is  the  name  of  the 
third  party  who  acted  with  you  gentlemen. 

Mr.  S.     Oh,  is  that  all  you  want  to  know  ? 

SuL.  So  Crosby  wouldn't  tell  you,  eh?  Well,  I  will. 
You  needn't  worry  about  putting  us  behind  the  bars,  or  of 
pressing  this  other  case  against  Seabury.  You  have  started 
out  in  a  brave  endeavor  to  wipe  out  graft,  but  don't  worry 
about  graft,  Kendrick ;  that  third  party  was  your  father. 

Bob.     Father  !     My  father  !     It's  a  lie.     I  don't  believe  it. 

Mr.  S.     Believe  it  or  not,  just  as  you  wish.     It's  the  truth. 

Bob  {pressing  button.  Enter  Jim.).  Tell  Mr.  Crosby  to 
step  in  here  a  minute.  {Exit  Jim.  To  Sul.)  We'll  soon 
find  out  whether  that's  true  or  not.  (^Enter  Cros.)  Mr. 
Sullivan  tells  me  that  the  third  party  in  the  terminal  case  was 
my  father.     Is  it  true  ? 

Cros.     Yes. 

Bob.     That  is  all.  \^Exit  Cros.,  l. 

Sul.  I  guess  we  can  be  going,  Seabury.  Those  cases  will 
never  come  to  trial.     (Picks  up  coat.     Exit,  R.) 

Bob.     Just  a  minute,  gentlemen. 

Mr.  S.  Mr.  Sullivan  has  gone ;  do  you  wish  to  speak  to 
me? 

Bob.  I  wish  to  speak  to  both  of  you,  but  I  will  say  my  say 
to  you. 

Mr.  S.  Since  you  have  been  District  Attorney,  you  have 
unjustly  persecuted  me,  with  the  end  in  view  of  hurting  my 
business. 

Bob.  No,  not  unjust  persecution,  but  investigation  and 
prosecution  of  a  just  nature.  I  believe  the  people  of  Chicago, 
if  they  knew  the  rottenness  of  the  meat  you  send  out  to  them 


THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY  45 

for  food,  would  rise  up  in  righteous  indignation,  and  demand 
your  retirement  from  the  Seabury  Packing  Company. 

Mr.  S.  There  are  some  fifty  odd  inspectors  at  my  plant, 
whose  business  it  is  to  protect  the  people  from  diseased  meat. 

Bob.  All  the  authority  these  inspectors  have  is  to  see  that 
the  diseased  meat  is  kept  within  the  state.  There  are  only 
three  inspectors  to  inspect  the  meat  sold  in  all  the  cities  of  the 
state.  Mr.  Sullivan  evidently  left  this  office  with  the  idea  that 
the  cases  against  you  and  him  would  be  nol-prosed,  but  that's 
the  biggest  mistake  Sullivan  ever  made. 

Mr.  S.  You  can't  frighten  me  with  that  bluff.  Do  you 
know  that  if  you  bring  that  Terminal  Company  case  to  trial 
you  will  show  up  the  graft  your  father  was  connected  with  and 
bring  disgrace  upon  your  family  name  ? 

Bob.  Mr.  Seabury,  I  intend  to  do  my  part  toward  the 
stamping  out  of  graft.  Even  if  my  father  was  alive  my  course 
would  be  the  same  as  it  will  be  now.  I  will  not  rest  until  you 
and  Sullivan  are  brought  to  justice.  That  means  prison  for 
both  of  you. 

Mr.  S.  Prison  !  You  don't  mean  that.  That's  a  blufif. 
It  won't  work.  Come,  let's  get  together.  My  reputation  is  at 
stake  and  means  as  much  to  me  as  your  father's  does  to  you. 

Bob.  Stop !  Don't  you  dare  to  suggest  that.  My  father 
may  have  done  wrong,  but  it  doesn't  run  in  the  family.  Is 
there  no  end  to  what  you  would  do  ?  God  help  the  employees 
of  corporations  who  have  for  officers  men  such  as  you.  Men 
without  scruples,  men  without  hearts,  men  almost  without 
souls. 

Mr.  S.  Are  you  a  deacon  or  the  District  Attorney  ?  Don't 
attempt  to  judge  me ;  that's  not  in  your  power.  I  doubt  you 
can  prove  your  case  in  spite  of  what  you  say. 

Bob.  You  know  better  than  that.  You  know  the  case  is 
as  clear  as  day.  You  know  what  the  results  will  be.  You 
can't  deny  it.     There's  no  way  out. 

Mr.  S.  Yes,  there  is.  There  is  one  way  you  haven't 
thought  of.  You  think  you've  got  me.  Think  you  will  win 
your  case  and  put  me  in  jail,  but  you're  wrong.  (^Goes  to 
door  at  R.)  You  may  win,  but  you  won't  get  me  in  jail. 
Mark  my  words. 

{Exit  at  R. ;  slams  door.     Bob  stands  facing  door.) 

Enter  Dor.,  at  l. 


46  THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY 

Dor.  Bob,  wasn't  that  father's  voice  I  heard  in  here  a 
minute  ago  ? 

Bob.     Now,  you  naustn't  ask. 

Dor.  I  know  it  was.  You  both  raised  your  voices.  Are 
matters  as  bad  as  the  papers  say?  Oh,  they  can't  be.  (Pistol 
shot  heard  off  stage  at  r.)     What's  that  ? 

(Bob  and  Dor.  go  off  r.    Stage  empty.    Bob  again  enters,  r. 
Goes  to  ^ phone.) 

Bob.     Main  95 Dr.  Morton,  can  you  come  right  over  to 

the  court-house  ?    A  gentleman  has  shot  himself  and  seems  to 
be  in  a  dying  condition. 

Enter  Cros.,  at  r. 

Cros.     He's  dead. 
Bob.     Dead ! 

Enter  Dor.,  at  r..  Aunt  H.,  at  L. 

Dor.  Out  of  my  way !  I  want  my  aunt.  You  traitor  I 
You  threatened  father  with  what  I  told  you.  I  hate  you  I 
Oh,  how  I  hate  you  I 


CURTAIN 


ACT  III 

SCENE.— 7%^  same  as  Act  L 

{Stage  dark,  with  Howard  Calvert  asleep  in  chair.  Enter 
Dor.,  c.  Turns  on  lights.  At  the  same  time  the  clock 
strikes  six  loudly  from  L.  How.  springs  to  his  feet  in  a 
defensive  attitude,  imagining  himself  in  boxing-ring.) 

Dor.     What  on  earth  is  the  matter  with  you,  Howard  ? 

How.     I  guess  I  thought  I  had  Jeffries  in  the  ring  with  me. 

Dor.     Are  you  taking  boxing  lessons  ? 

How.  A  regular  gymnastic  course.  That  includes  boxing, 
thDugh. 

Dor.     That's  nice.     Who  is  your  instructor  ? 

How.     Professor  Dooley.    We  nicknamed  him  M.  De  Ooley. 

Dor.     How  does  he  like  that  ? 

How.  Oh,  he  doesn't  know  it.  But  say,  you  ought  to  see 
him.  He  is  all  chest  and  muscle.  When  he  gets  up  to  the 
punching  bag  he  makes  that  old  thing  talk.  It  goes  bang-it-ty, 
bang,  bang,  bang  !  {Enter  Bev.  Stands  in  doorway  at  r.) 
And  when  he  puts  up  a  one  hundred  and  fifty  pound  dumb-bell 
the  muscles  of  his  arm  stand  out  like  whip-cords.  That's  the 
way  I'm  going  to  have  my  arms  some  day. 

Bev.     Is  Howard  bothering  you  with  his  gymnasium  talk  ? 

Dor.     Not  at  all. 

How.  Oh,  wouldn't  that  jar  you  !  Just  when  you  and  I 
were  having  a  nice  conversation,  Beverly  has  to  butt  in  and 
queer  it.     1  wish  she  was  a  brother,  anyway. 

Bev.     1  won't  bother  you  after  to-night. 

Dor.     He'll  miss  you  when  you're  gone. 

How.  Well,  I  won't  miss  you  to-night,  for  I'm  a  good 
shot.  I've  got  all  the  old  boots  in  the  neighborhood  and  five 
pounds  of  rice. 

Dor.     Why,  Howard,  you  are  a  regular  little  pirate. 

How.  I'm  not  half  the  pirate  that  Dick  is,  for  I  never  stole 
a  fellow's  sister. 

Bev.     No,  but  you  will  some  day. 

How.  Not  if  I  know  it.  Gee  1  I'm  glad  I'm  free.  No 
wedding  bells  for  me.  [^Exit,  c. 

Dor.     It  doesn't  seem  possible  that  this  is  your  wedding  day. 

47 


48  THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY 

Bev.  I  know  it  doesn't;  I  can  hardly  believe  it  myself. 
Let's  see ;  it's  half-past  five  now.  What  else  is  there  for  us  to 
do  ?  Dick  has  taken  care  of  the  trunks  and  there  is  only  the 
packing  of  the  three  suit-cases  left. 

Dor.     Aunt  Hattie  will  help  us  pack  those. 

Bev.     Yes,  she's  a  dear.     She  has  helped  me  so  much. 

Dor.  I  don't  know  what  we  would  do  without  her.  Come 
now,  take  me  into  your  confidence  and  tell  me  about  your  trip. 

Bev,     Oh,  I  must  not.     I'm  afraid  Dick  might  not  like  it. 

Dor.  Oh,  but  he  will  never  know.  I'll  not  tell.  Honest 
I  won't.     Really. 

Bev.  Dick  is  so  afraid  the  boys  at  the  college  will  be  up  to 
some  of  their  pranks.  Why,  you  know  they  kidnapped  a 
bridegroom  only  last  year.  Wouldn't  it  be  just  awful  if  they 
should  do  that  to  Dick  ?  But  I  know  they  couldn't  do  that. 
Dick  is  so  big  and  strong — and  nice. 

Dor.     If  I  guess  where  you're  going,  will  you  tell  me? 

Bev.  I  suppose  1  might  as  well  tell  you  now,  for  you'll 
tease  me  into  it,  anyway.     We're  going  East. 

Dor.     To  the  seashore  ? 

Bev.  Well,  no,  not  exactly.  We're  going  to  Boston  first. 
We  expect  to  spend  a  few  days  at  Mrs.  Clark's  home  at  Man- 
chester-by-the-sea.     Then  we're  going  up  into  the  mountains. 

Dor.  I  know  you  will  have  a  good  time  up  there,  but  I] 
should  think  you  would  go  to  the  seashore.     I  know  I  should. 

Bev.  When  you  go  on  your  honeymoon  you  won't  want  to 
go  where  there  is  one  continuous  round  of  entertaining.  You 
will  rather  be  in  the  country  or  on  the  mountains ;  in  the  rustic 
camp  with  the  big  world  around,  but  not  near  you.  Quiet, 
restful,  beautiful  to  lover's  eyes.  At  night  around  the  camp- 
fire,  watching  the  twinkling  stars  through  the  waving  tree-tops. 
The  day  spent  in  the  woods  and  on  the  lakes.  Wait  until  you 
plan  yours ;  you'll  understand. 

Dor.  I'll  never  have  any  honeymoon.  I've  decided  to  de- 
vote my  life  and  fortune  to  charity. 

Bev.  I  realize,  Dorothy,  that  this  is  a  delicate  subject,  and 
I  dislike  to  speak  about  it.  I  have  hoped — we  all  have  hoped 
— trusted  all  through  these  twelve  months  that — that  we  could 
some  day  see  you  and  Bob  happily  married. 

Enter  Aunt  H.,  at  c. 

Dor.  Married  ! — Bob  and  I  ?  Oh,  it  can't  be.  It  can't. 
How  could  I  marry  a  man  who  betrayed  my  confidence  and 


THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY  49 

trust  ?  He  used  the  information  that  I  was  foolish  enough  to 
tell  him  as  the  instrument  which  forced  my  father  to  take  his 
life. 

Aunt  H.     Dorothy ! 

Dor.     Yes,  Auntie. 

Aunt  H.  I  think  you  have  treated  Mr.  Kendrick  very 
unfairly;  you  have  not  even  given  him  a  chance  to  explain. 
The  poor  boy  has  called  at  the  house  dozens  of  times,  but  you 
would  not  see  him. 

Dor.  There  is  nothing  to  explain.  He  chose  his  course. 
Now  he  must  abide  by  the  results. 

Aunt  H.  I  do  not  think  Mr.  Kendrick  was  directly  respon- 
sible for  your  father's  death.  You  should  take  the  same  view 
of  the  matter  as  Dick  and  I  do.  Dick  certainly  bears  no  ill-will 
toward  Bob,  or  he  would  not  have  asked  him  to  be  his  best 
man. 

Dor.  Dick  is  young  and  hardly  knows  his  own  mind.  He 
is  very  easily  influenced. 

Bev.  Indeed  !  You  don't  do  Dick  justice.  He's  strong- 
minded. 

Dor.     That  all  depends  on  one's  view-point. 

Aunt  H.  Both  you  and  Dick  take  after  your  father,  and 
have  wills  of  your  own.  But  in  this  case  you  seem  to  have 
gone  to  the  extreme. 

Bev.  I'm  not  criticizing  Bob  in  any  way.  It  seems  to  me 
that  after  every  other  avenue  of  reaching  you  had  been  ex- 
hausted he  should  try  to  explain  the  matter  by  letter. 

Dor.  I  do  not  see  why  you  should  plead  Mr.  Kendrick's 
cause.  He  did  write  me  a  letter.  As  soon  as  I  saw  it  was 
from  him,  I  gave  it  to  the  flames  without  reading  it. 

Aunt  H.     Is  it  possible  ? 

Bev.  {walking  to  Dor.).  Dorothy,  you're  a  heartless  crea- 
ture. Why,  I  almost  fear  for  Mr.  Kendrick's  safety  to-night. 
You  won't  hurt  Dick's  best  man,  will  you  ? 

Dor.     Well,  I'll  spare  his  life  to-night. 

Bev.  I  want  to  say  now  what  I  have  felt  for  the  last  few 
days.  (Dor.  starts  to  interrupt.)  Please  don't  interrupt 
me.  That  is,  how  can  I  ever  thank  you  and  Aunt  Hattie  for 
the  kindness  you  have  bestowed  upon  me  ? 

Dor.     Beverly,  you  know  we  are  happy. 

Bev.  Please,  I  must  thank  you.  After  that  awful  fire  at  the 
hotel,  you  opened  your  home  to  us,  servants  and  all.  Oh,  it 
was  so  good.     I  want  you  to  know  I  appreciate  it. 


50  THE    DISTRICT   ATTORNEY 

Dor.     I  know  you  do — sister. 

Aunt  H.  I  don't  want  to  hurry  you  girls,  but  if  you  wish 
sufficient  time  to  dress  we  had  better  start  packing  the  suit- 
cases now. 

Bev.     Yes,  I  am  a  little  anxious. 

Dor.  You  must  not  be  nervous.  When  the  minister  asks 
the  all  important  question,  answer  in  a  good  clear  tone,  "I 
do."  \_Exeunt  Aunt  H.,  Bev.,  Dor.,  at  r. 

Enter  Billy  and  Peg.,  at  c. 

Billy  (very  nervous).  I've  got  something  I  want  to  say  to 
you,  Peggy. 

Peg.  It  doesn't  seem  to  me,  Billy,  that  it  was  very  nice  of 
you  to  ask  Mr.  Biownell  to  wait  down-stairs.  It  is  hardly  what 
I  expected  of  you. 

Billy.  I  don't  blame  you  for  rubbing  it  into  me,  but  I 
wanted  to  tell  you 

Peg.  Yes,  I  know  you  do.  Come  over  here  and  sit  down 
{crossing  to  sofa),  and  let  me  hear  all  about  it. 

Billy.     You  know  they  say  charity 

Peg.  Well,  who  would  have  thought  you  would  have  taken 
up  with  charity  work  ?  And  so  you  want  to  interest  me,  too. 
I  suppose  you  want  me  to  do  some  slum  work  ? 

Billy.     Not  exactly.     It  isn't  that;  you  see 

Peg.  Maybe  'tis  Floating  Hospital,  Little  Wanderers' 
Home,  the  Blind  Asylum.  It  isn't  the  Salvation  Army,  is  it, 
Billy? 

Billy.  Salvation  Army  nothing.  What  do  you  think  I  am  ? 
A  religious  fanatic  ?  I'm  not  talking  of  charities ;  I  simply 
want  to  convince  you 

Peg.  I  don't  need  to  be  convinced.  I  already  believe  in 
them.     What  can  I  do  to  help  ? 

Billy.  Don't  do  anything.  Just  sit  there  and  listen,  and 
give  me  a  chance.  I  never  saw  a  woman  who  could  talk  so 
much  as  you  can.  You  ought  to  be  a  suffragette.  You'd  be 
a  corker  at  delivering  speeches. 

Peg.  Oh,  do  you  really  think  so?  I'm  so  interested  in  the 
subject.  I  always  wanted  to  be  a  great  orator.  {Stands  up.) 
To  stand  on  some  raised  platform,  to  see  crowded  round  me 
multitudes  of  people,  the  expressions  on  their  faces  telling  me 
that  they  were  waiting  eagerly  for  what  I  was  to  say.  And  I, 
with  my  mighty  power  of  persuasion,  would  so  move  them  that 


THE    DISTRICT   ATTORNEY  51 

they  would  do  and  vote  as  I  wished  them  to.  Wouldn't  that 
be  great?     {Pause.)     Why  don't  you  answer  me  ? 

Billy.  Well,  I've  been  talking  so  much  I  thought  I'd  give 
you  a  chance.  But  as  long  as  my  time  has  come  1  guess  I'll 
take  it.     I  was  going  to  ask  your  advice  on  a  little 

Peg.  Business  matter  ?  Are  you  going  to  start  in  business 
for  yourself?  I  always  told  mother  you  had  something  in  you, 
and  that  it  would  come  out  some  time. 

Billy.  Yes,  I  know.  And  I've  been  trying  to  get  it  out 
for  the  last  half  hour,  but  it's  still  there.  Now,  Peggy,  I  want 
you  to  do  something  hard ;  just  sit  still  and  be  quiet.  Peggy, 
I  love 

Peg.  To  play  golf.  Well,  I  don't  blame  you,  for  I  think 
it  is  a  rather  fascinating  game.  You  know,  of  course,  that 
George  Reynolds  is  a  fine  player. 

Billy.  Oh,  hang  George  Reynolds  and  golf,  too.  I  want 
to  tell  you  that  I  love 

Enter  Mr.  B.,  at  c. 

Mr.  B.  To  keep  me  waiting.  Now  own  up,  Billy.  Don't 
you? 

Billy.     Nothing  of  the  sort.     I — I — hang  it,  I  don't  know. 

Peg.  I'm  glad  you  came  up,  Herbert.  Billy  has  been 
abusing  me.     He  wouldn't  let  me  talk. 

Mr.  B.  Hadn't  we  better  tell  Billy  our  secret?  (Peg. 
nods  assent.)  Don't  you  think  this  is  to  be  the  only  wedding 
this  year.     There's  to  be  another  in  September. 

Billy  {to  Peg.).  Please  accept  my  best  wishes  for  years  of 
happiness. 

Peg.     Thanks. 

Billy  {to  Mr.  B.).  Congratulations.  (Both  shake  hands. 
Exeunt  Peg.  and  Mr.  B.,  at  c.)  If  any  one  had  told  me  this 
afternoon  that  I  was  a  dead  one,  gee,  there  would  have  been 
war.  But  now,  bring  on  the  undertaker. — No  need  of  being 
discouraged.  1  don't  love  Peggy,  anyhow.  It's  Polly.  This 
just  clears  the  atmosphere.     I'll  hunt  up  Polly.     {Goes  to  vl.) 

Enter  Pol. 

Pol.     Have  you  seen  Peggy  ? 
Billy.     Yes,  they  just  went  down-stairs. 
Pol.     They?     Oh,  I  know.     {Pause.)     Oh,  Billy,   I  got 
some  great  news  for  you. 


52  THE    DISTRICT   ATTORNEY 

Billy.     Yes  ?     What  is  it  ? 

Pol.     I'm  engaged. 

Billy.     What !     Well,  what  do  you  know  about  that ! 

Pol.     Why  don't  you  congratulate  me?     Aren't  you  glad  ? 

Billy.     Oh,  I'm  tickled  to  pieces;  who  is  the  lucky  man? 

Pol.  George  Reynolds.  He  wrote  and  asked  me.  I  tele- 
graphed the  answer.  He'll  be  here  to-night.  I'm  going  to 
find  Peggy.  [Exi(,  c. 

Billy  {thinking),  I'd  try  one.  If  she  turned  me  down, 
I'd  ask  the  other.  If  she  said  no — well,  this  town  is  on  the 
edge  of  a  mighty  big  lake.  Nothing  doing — I  don't  know  how 
to  swim. 

Enter  Sam,  c.^  followed  by  Dick. 

Sam.     Dis  way,  Massa  Dick. 

Dick.     Tell  Beverly  I'm  here  on  time. 

Sam.     Yes,  sir;  yes,  sir.     Is  dat  all,  Massa  Dick?     [Exit. 

Billy.  It's  good  to  be  on  time,  Dick.  We've  only  got 
about  two  hours  to  wait. 

Dick.     Well,  what  time  is  it? 

Billy.     Quarter  past  six. 

Dick.  I  wonder  what  is  keeping  Bob.  He  bet  me  a  cigar 
he  would  be  here  before  I  would. 

Billy.     Bob  is  where  he  usually  is — in  the  court-house. 

Dick.     What  time  is  it  ? 

Billy.     Six-twenty. 

Dick.     What's  Bob  up  to  now?  Anything  special? 

Billy.  Well,  I  should  smile.  To-night's  papers  are  full 
of  that  speech  he  made  to  the  jury,  which  lasted  six  hours. 

Dick.     What  time  is  it  now  ? 

Billy.  What  time  is  it  ?  Do  you  want  me  to  wear  my 
watch  out  ?     It's  six  twenty-two  and  about  a  half. 

Dick.     What  case  is  that  Bob  is  interested  in  now  ? 

Billy.  That  Terminal  Company  case.  By  this  evening's 
Herald  it  looks  as  though  the  company  would  lose  its  charier 
and  Sullivan  go  to  jail. 

Dick.  With  all  respect  to  my  father,  Sullivan,  Old  Man 
Kendrick  and  he,  were  the  biggest  bunch  of  grafters  that  ever 
lived.  Hasn't  that  clock  of  yours  moved  any  yet?  What 
time  is  it  ? 

Billy.     You'll  drive  me  crazy.     Six-thirty. 

Enter  Sam,  followed  by  Bob. 


THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY  53 

Sam.     Yes,  sir,  dey  are  in  here.  [Exit. 

Bob.  Hello,  fellows.  I  guess  the  cigar  is  yours,  Dick.  I'll 
have  to  owe  it  to  you.     1  haven't  one  with  me. 

Billy.  Yes,  he'll  get  it  for  you,  Dick,  when  he  goes  down 
to  the  rope  factory. 

Dick.     What  time  is  it,  Bob  ? 

Bob.     Six-thirty. 

Dick.     What !     That's  what  Billy  said  half  an  hour  ago. 

Bob.     I  guess  his  clock  is  wrong. 

Billy.  This  isn't  a  clock,  this  is  an  IngersoU  watch.  I 
hear  you  have  been  cutting  up  down  at  the  court-house  again 
today.  Bob.     What  is  going  to  happen  to  Sullivan  now ? 

Bob.  Nothing.  He  goes  scot  free.  Oh,  I  knew  it  would 
be  somewhat  of  a  surprise ;  it  was  to  me. 

Billy.  The  papers  had  it  that  you  secured  a  conviction  in 
the  Terminal  Company  case. 

Bob.  We  did.  The  Terminal  Company's  charter  is  to  run 
only  for  twenty  years.  And  as  it  expires  this  year  I  don't  im- 
agine the  City  Council  will  renew  it  without  the  company  make 
some  of  the  many  needed  improvements. 

Dick.  So  Sullivan  wasn't  convicted?  Looks  as  if  some 
money  had  reached  the 

Bob.  I'm  not  in  a  position  to  say  that.  It  is  rather  queer 
that  the  act  should  be  considered  illegal,  but  that  the  man  who 
was  responsible  for  it  should  not  be  held  so. 

Billy.  What  are  you  going  to  do?  Surely  you  won't  let 
matters  rest  here  ? 

Dick.     You've  got  to  get  him  somehow. 

Bob.  It  can't  be  done.  When  the  supreme  court  passes 
judgment  on  a  case  like  this,  that  is  the  end  of  it. 

Dick.  Well,  I  suppose  it  is  as  you  say.  Billy,  what  time 
is  it? 

Billy.     For  heaven's  sake,  Dick,  where  is  your  watch  ? 

Dick.  I  forgot  to  wear  it.  You  needn't  be  so  stingy  with 
your  time. 

Billy.  It's  twenty  minutes  of  seven.  Don't  ask  me  again 
for  an  hour.  We've  got  some  instructions  to  give  you.  When 
you  are  walking  down  the  aisle  leaning  on  Bob's  arm,  don't 
stick  your  other  hand  in  your  pocket,  and  don't  make  faces  at 
the  minister.     Oh,  yes,  about  kissing  the  bride 

Bob.     Oh,  Dick,  can  you  do  that  all  right  ? 

(Aunt  H.  appears  in  centre  doorway,) 


54  THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY 

Billy.  I  don't  believe  he  can,  Bob.  Now,  Dick,  listen  to 
this.  If  you  want  to  kiss  her  sweetly,  very  neatly,  and  com- 
pletely ;  if  you  want  to  kiss  her  so's  to  kiss  her  nice,  if  you 
really  want  to  kiss  her,  make  a  dodge  or  two  and  miss  her,  then 
kiss  her  on  tlie  kisser  once  or  twice. 

Aunt  H.     Good-evening,  boys.     I  see  you  are  here  early. 

Billy.  Dick  was  afraid  we  would  be  late.  I  went  out  to 
meet  liim  ;  he  made  me  run  the  last  two  blocks.  I  thought  I 
would  never  get  my  wind  back. 

Dick.     What  time  is  it  ? 

Enter  Sam,  c. 

Sam.  Excuse  me,  ladies  and  gentlemen.  Mr.  Kendrick,  a 
fellow  with  a  big  voice,  a  Mr.  Sullivan,  is  in  the  reception 
room  and  would  like  to  see  you.     Shall  I  show  him  up  ? 

Bob.  Wants  the  pleasure  of  saying  I  told  you  so.  No,  I 
do  not  care  to  see  him. — Wait.     You'd  better  show  him  up. 

Dick.  Sullivan !  I  guess  we  don't  care  about  seeing 
Sullivan,  do  we,  Billy  ?     Let's  go  down  for  a  smoke. 

Billy.     That's  us.  \_Exeunt  Dick  and  Billy,  c. 

Bob  {to  Aunt  H.).     Is  Dorothy  here  ? 

Aunt  H.     Yes ;  she  is  up-stairs  with  Beverly,  dressing. 

Bob.  Can't  you  arrange  some  way  so  I  can  have  a  few 
minutes  alone  with  her  ? 

Aunt  H.  I  don't  know.  I  have  done  everything  I  can, 
but  she  will  not  see  you. 

Bob.  Can't  you?  Isn't  there  someway?  Tell  her  Dick 
has  arrived  and  is  down  here.  I  must  see  her.  I  never  can  go 
through  the  ceremony  as  Dick's  best  man  and  have  her  believe 
me  false  to  her  trust. 

Aunt  H.  I  don't  know.  Bob.  I'll  do  what  I  can,  but  don't 
hope  for  too  much.  {^Exit^  at  R. 

Sam  {at  c).     Mr.  Sullivan,  sir. 

Sul.     If  you  don't  mind,  we'll  excuse  the  nigger. 

Bob.     All  right,  Sam. 

Sam.     Yes,  sir.  \^Exity  at  c. 

Sul.  Mr.  Kendrick,  I've  come  to  you  to-night  upon  a 
peculiar  errand.  But  before  I  come  to  that,  I  wish  you  would 
answer  me  one  question.  Do  you  really  believe,  had  you  put 
me  in  jail,  it  would  have  helped  to  stop  political  corruption  ? 

Bob.  I  most  certainly  do.  And  in  spite  of  what  the  court 
said,  you  know  that  you  deserve  it.  I  don't  understand  how 
you  got  off. 


THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY  55 

SuL.  That's  what  I'm  here  to  tell  you.  But  first,  why  do 
you  put  all  the  blame  of  this  crooked  work  in  the  Terminal 
Company  on  me  ?  Seabury  and  your  father  were  just  as  much 
in  for  it  as  I  was.  It  was  your  father  starting  this  that  enabled 
him  to  send  you  through  college,  and  to  leave  you  a  fortune. 

(Dor.  stands  in  doorway.') 

Bob.  Mr.  Seabury  is  dead,  and  has  passed  beyond  the 
arms  of  the  law.  If  he  were  alive,  he  would  have  had  to  stand 
trial  as  you  did.  In  my  father's  case,  my  course  would  have 
been  exactly  the  same.  If  it  were  possible,  I  would  return 
every  penny  of  the  fortune  he  left  to  where  it  came  from,  and 
throw  my  education  to  the  wind.  (^Exit  Dor.  Pause.)  But 
please  come  to  the  point. 

SuL.  My  point  is  this.  You  and  every  other  man  who  has 
started  out  to  reform  a  city  has  made  a  failure  of  it.  Why  ? 
Because  you  all  have  attacked  the  politician.  That  has  been 
your  mistake. 

Bob.  Mistake  to  attack  men  such  as  you  ?  Surely  you're 
joking. 

SuL.  No.  I  repeat  it.  What  makes  us  politicians  engage 
in  graft  ?     The  fun  of  it  ? 

Bob.     No,  the  money. 

SuL.  Yes,  the  money.  But  who  supplies  it  ?  That's  the 
point.  And  why?  The  privileged  class.  Corporations  that 
want  laws  passed  in  their  favor.  Big  business  that  has  an  axe 
to  grind.  Big  business  that  uses  the  politicians  of  both  parties 
for  their  playthings.  Then  ask  these  politicians  in  turn  to  use 
the  people,  to  throw  sand  in  their  eyes,  and  make  them  think 
black  is  white. 

Bob.     But  why  do  you  tell 

SuL.  Hear  me  through.  Had  the  court  held  me  guilty  to- 
day I  would  have  been  in  jail  now,  with  my  political  career 
over.  You  didn't  win  your  case  in  that  sense.  But  you  did 
win.  I'm  through  with  graft.  I'm  going  east  for  good.  Un- 
less   

Bob.     Unless  what? 

SuL.  Unless  you  want  me  to  stay  here  and  use  the  same 
machine  to  elect  you  governor,  so  that  we  can  go  after  the  real 
cause.     Big  business  that  want  their  own  laws. 

Bob.     Do  you  mean  it  ? 

SuL.  You  may  think  I  can't  play  fair.  {Pushes  hell.) 
But  I  can.     Never  have  I  broken  my  word,  and  never  will  I. 


56  THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY 

Bob.     What  has  come  over  you  ?    Can  I  trust  you  ? 
Enter  Sam,  c. 

SuL.     Send  Mr.  Brownell  up  here. 

Sam.     Yes,  sir.  \_Exit. 

SuL.  Trust  me  !  Yes.  I  have  made  a  complete  conlession 
of  my  connection  with  graft.  Here  it  is.  It  also  contains  the 
proposition  I  am  making  to  you.  If  you  say  the  word,  I'll  give 
it  to  Brownell.  It  will  be  in  to-morrow's  Tribune^  with  every- 
thing made  plain  to  the  people,  and  my  pledge  to  do  the  square 
thing.     Kendrick,  I  mean  business. 

Enter  Mr.  B.,  c. 

Mr.  B.     Sam  said  you  wanted  to  see  me. 

SuL.  I  have  here  a  confession  and  a  pledge.  That  will 
make  good  head-lines  for  the  morning  Tribune.  Mr.  Kendrick 
wants  you  to  take  it  to  the  office  at  once.  It  may  mean  some- 
thing to  you. 

Mr.  B.     Is  that  right.  Bob? 

Bob.     Yes. 

Mr.  B.     Gee,  this  is  great !     Thanks.  [Exit^  c. 

Bob.  If  you  play  square,  there  is  no  limit  to  what  we  can 
do. 

SuL.  There  is  a  certain  gentleman  who  says  that  judges 
should  be  elected  by  the  people,  and  recalled  for  cause.  I 
don't  know  but  what  he  is  right.  That's  where  Special 
Interests  will  make  their  last  stand.  We  have  got  to  have  the 
judiciary  clean.  I'm  going  now ;  we  will  get  together  to-morrow 
{both  out  at  c.)  and  talk  things  over. 

Enter  Dick  and  Billy,  at  c. 

Dick.  It  just  seems  as  if  all  the  clocks  in  the  house  just 
stood  still.     What  time  is  it  ? 

Billy.  Never  mind  what  time  it  is.  If  you  don't  get  your 
mind  on  something  other  than  this  wedding,  you  will  be  a 
nervous  wreck.     Let's  talk  about  Sullivan. 

Dick.  Oh,  we  have  finished  him,  or  rather  Bob  has.  Con- 
found it,  I  won't  talk  about  anything  unless  you  tell  me  the 
time. 

Enter  Dor.,  c. 

Dor.     Hello,  Billy.     {Goes  over  to  Dick.)    Well  I 


THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY  57 

Dick.     Well. 

Dor.     Did  you  want  to  see  me  ? 

Dick.  No.  No  more  than  I  always  do.  Who  said  I  did  ? 
How's  Beverly  ? 

Dor.  She's  all  right ;  she  looks  almost  like  an  angel,  and  she 
is  one,  too.  You're  a  lucky  boy,  Dick,  to  get  such  a  fine  girl 
as  Beverly.     But  Auntie  said  you  wanted  to  see  me. 

Dick.     I  said  nothing.     (Billy  punches  Dick.)     Oh,  yes. 

I  wanted  you  to — what  was  it  I  wanted  you Oh,  here's 

a  new  piece  Billy  wanted  you  to  play  over  for  us. 

Dor.  I  ought  to  be  with  Beverly,  but  I'll  steal  a  minute  or 
so  to  play  for  you.  (Dor.  sits  at  piano  and  plays,  "  When  I 
marry  you.''  After  so?ig,  Bob  appears  in  doorway.  Exeunt 
Dick  and  Billy.)     How  do  you  like  that  ? 

Bob.     It's  quite  pretty. 

Dor.     I — why,  I — where  are  the  boys  ? 

Bob.     Oh,  they  just  stepped  out. 

Dor.  If  I  don't  hurry,  Beverly  will  think  I  am  lost.  You'll 
excuse  me,  Mr.  Kendrick  ? 

Bob.     Not  just  yet.     I  won't  keep  you  long. 

Dor.     Indeed,  /  have  something  to  say  about  that. 

Bob.  I  guess  you  can  spare  me  a  couple  of  minutes.  Dor- 
othy, we  are  going  to  make  up  and  get  married,  aren't  we? 

Dor.  {closing  eyes).     No  ! 

Bob.  You  love  me ;  you  can't  hide  it.  I  can  see  it  in  your 
eyes. 

Dor.     No,  you  can't ;  my  eyes  are  closed. 

Bob.  There  is  no  need  of  going  on  in  this  way.  You  are 
making  your  life  miserable  as  well  as  mine.  {Takes  hold  of 
her.)     Dorothy,  I  want  you  to  say  yes — y-e-s — yes  ! 

Dor.  {hesitating).     Y-e-s. 

{As  Bob  and  Dor.  embrace^  How.  enters.) 

How.     Gee,  that's  better  than  a  prize-fight. 
Dor.  {blushing).     Oh,  Howard  ! 
How.     Beverly,  Beverly,  come — come  quick  ! 
Dor.  {stamping foot).     Howard  ! 

Bob  {to  Dor.).  Come  now,  Dorothy,  be  a  brave  girl.  Face 
the  music. 

Enter  Billy,  Sam,  Dick  and  Bev. 
Bev.     Why,  Howard,  what  do  you  want  ? 


58  THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY 

How.     I  think  that  something  is  going  to  happen. 
Dick.     Say,  does  anybody  know  what  time  it  is  ? 
How.  (^pointing  to  Dor.  and  Bob).     Half- past  kissing  time. 
Time  to  kiss  again. 

(Sam  hursts  out  laughing.') 

Dor.  {stamping  foot ).     Howard  ! 
Bob  (Jo  Dor.).     Face  the  music. 

How.  {to  Bev.).     I  saw  Mr.  Kendrick  and 

Dor.  {sta?nping foot).     Howard! 

How.     And  Miss  Seabury  hugging  just  like  this. 

{Hugs  back  of  chair,) 

Dick.     What  time  is  it  ? 

Bev.  It's  time  to  find  out  what  all  this  hugging  is  about. 
Come  now,  Dorothy,  tell  me,  have  you  and  Bobby 

Bob.  Yes,  we  have.  Miss  Calvert.  We  shall  be  pleased  to 
play  doubles  in  the  wedding  tournament  of  the  evening.  Miss 
Seabury  and  I  will  stand  you  and  Mr.  Seabury. 

Sam.     Let  me  be  de  umpire. 

How.     No,  let  me. 

Sam  {laughing).  Law's  sake,  we  can  have  de  double 
umpire  system. 

Bev.  {embracing  Dor.).  Dorothy,  didn't  you  tell  me  only 
two  hours  ago  that  you  were  never  going  to  get  married,  but 
that  you  were  going  to  devote  your  life  and  fortune  to  charity  ? 

Dor.  Isn't  Bobby  good  fortune  for  me,  and  isn't  charity 
love? 

How.  Congratulations,  old  man,  hearty  congratulations. 
Are  you  going  to  the  mountains,  the  seashore,  or  back  to  the 
woods  ? 

Bob.     Howard,  I'm  going  up  into  the  clouds. 

Dick.  Well,  Dorothy,  you're  as  wise  as  you  are  handsome. 
I'm  going  to  give  you  a  hug.  You  don't  mind,  Beverly,  do 
you?  Dorothy,  we  both  might  just  as  well  have  a  little 
practice. 

Bev.  {to  Bob,  hugging  him).  So  can  we,  can't  we  ?  Bob, 
may  you  have,  oh — so  happy  a  life. 

(Peg.  ajid  Pol.  at  c.) 

Pol.     What  are  you  all  celebrating  ? 

Peg.  I  believe  that  it  has  happened.  The  best  thing  of  all. 
Has  it,  Dorothy  ? 


THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY  59 

Dor.     Yes. 

Dick.     Say,  what  time  is  it? 

Billy  {ivho  has  stood  meekly  down  stage).  It's  time  for 
somebody  to  hug  me. 

(Sam  laughs  and  starts  to  hug  Billy,  when  bell  rings.    Exit 
Sam.     All  quiet.) 

Sam  (reentering).  De  Reverend  Clergyman  am  arrived, 
and  he  is  down  in  de  parlor. 

How.     Hurrah  for  the  wedding-bells  ! 

Bev.     Howard  ! 

Dick.     The  time  has  arrived.     Beverly,  my  arm. 

Dor.  Come,  Bobby,  nothing  is  the  matter  with  my  arm 
to-night. 

Billy.  Come,  hurry  up  there.  Bob,  or  I'll  jump  and  steal 
a  march  on  you. 

Peg.  This  is  the  last  time  we  can  rehearse  before  the  cere- 
mony.    {To  Pol.)     My  arm,  Mr.  Reynolds. 

Pol.  {to  Peg.).     Certainly.     My  arm,  Mr.  Brownell. 

How.     Squad,  fall  in  !     Sergeant,  attention  ! 

Sam.     I'se  here,  Cap'n. 

How.     Charge  bayonets  ! 

Dor.     Why,  we  are  not  going  to  war  ! 

Sam.  Law's  sake  !  Miss  Dorothy,  you  don't  know  whether 
you  is  or  not. 

Bev.     Howard,  you  behave.     This  is  no  prize-fight. 

How.     You  may  have  one,  sister,  by  and  by. 

Dick.  Come,  hurry  up,  Sergeant,  start  up  the  wedding 
band. 

Sam.  Shuah  'nuff.  {To  leader  of  orchestra.)  Mr.  John- 
son,  can  you  play  us  some  soft,  dulcet,  love-sick  strain  ? 

{Orchestra plays  Wedding  March,) 

How.     Forward,  march  ! 

(How.  and  Sam  lead  march.) 

Sam  {pushing  How.  out  of  the  way).  Age  before  beauty 
and  kids. 

{Afarch  order  :  Sam,  How.,  Peg.  and  Pol.,  Bev.  and  Dick, 
Bob  and  Dor.,  Billy  and  Aunt  H.) 

Enter  Aunt  H. 


60  THE    DISTRICT    ATTORNEY 

Aunt  H.     Why,  what  is  this? 

Billy  {interrupting).  You  come  right  in  and  march  with 
me.  Nobody  loves  me.  I'm  the  worst  man  at  this  wedding. 
Well,  all  right.  {Takes  hold  of  Aunt  H.'s  arm.')  If  you 
want  to  kiss  her  sweetly,  very  neatly  and  completely,  if  you 
want  to  kiss  her  so's  to  kiss  her  nice ;  if  you  really  want  to  kiss 
her,  make  a  dodge  or  two  and  naiss  her,  then  kiss  her  on  the 
kisser  once  or  twice. 


CURTAIN 


New  Plays 


THE  COUNTRY  MINISTER 

A  COMEDY-DRAMA  IN  FIVE  ACTS 


By  Arthur  Lewis  Tuhbs 


ATJTHOB  OF  "  V ALLEY  FARM,"   «' WILLOWDALE,"   "THE  PENALTY  OF 
PRIDE,"  ETC. 

Eight  males,  five  females.  Costumes,  modern;  scenery  not  difficult. 
Plays  a  full  evening.  A  very  sj'mpathetic  piece,  of  powerful  dramatic  in- 
terest; strong  and  varied  comedy  relioves  the  serious  plot,  as  in  this  author's 
••Valley  Farm,"  to  admirers  of  which  this  play  is  recommended.  Ralph 
Underwood,  the  minister,  is  a  p^-eat  part,  and  Roxy  a  strong  soubrette;  all 
parts  are  good  and  full  of  opportunitv.  Scenes  are  laid  about  equally  in  city 
and  country.  This  will  be  the  '•  hit "  of  the  coming  year,  and  Clubs  will  do 
well  to  secure  early  copies.    Clean,  bright  and  strongly  recommended. 

Price,  25  cents 

CHARACTERS 

Rey.  Ralph  Underwood,  the  coun-  William  Henry. 

try  minuter.  TOM  SPARROW. 

Gregory  Heath,  of  the  world  at  Mr.  Filkins,  an  officer. 

large.  Helen  Burleigh, /rom  the  city. 

JuD  Pabdob,  a  wrecib  m  the  ocean  of  Jerusha  Jake  Judkins,  the  poH- 

life.  mis'ress. 

Timothy  Hodd,  who  would   rather  Roxy,  •'  a  fresh  air  kid." 

whittle  than  work.  GRANNY  Gkimes. 

Dbacon  Potter,  "jtut  a  tnfle  deej."  Fanny,  a  maid. 

SYNOPSIS 

Act  L  —  Yard  of  Miss  Judkins's  store  and  postofBce,  Mullenvllle,  N.  Y., 
on  a  morning  in  Angust. 

Act  II.  —  Same  as  Act  I,  half  an  hour  later. 

Act  III.  —  Granny  Grimes's  garret,  on  the  East  Side,  New  York  City, 
the  following  Novembier. 

Act  IV.  —  Miss  Burleigh's  home  In  New  York,  the  same  evening. 

Act  V.  —  Back  at  Mmlenville,  in  Miss  Judkins'a  sitting-room.  One 
month  has  elapsed. 


TV/ELFTH  NIGHT 

Bp  William  Shakespeare 

A  comedy  In  Five  Acts.  Ten  males,  throe  females.  Costumes,  pictur- 
Mqae:  scenerv,  varied.  Plays  a  full  evening.  A  new  acting  version  of  thlg 
comedy,  based  ou  the  prompt-bouk  of  Miss  Julia  Marlowa 

Price,  15  cents 


New  Plays 


THE  MISSING  MISS  MILLER 

A  COMEDY  IN  THREE  ACTS 

By  Harold  A.  Clarke 

Six  males,  five  females.  Scenery,  two  interiors ;  costumes  modem. 
Plays  a  full  evening.  A  bright  and  up-to-date  farce-comedy  of  the  liveliest 
type.  All  the  parts  good ;  full  of  opportunity  for  all  hands.  Hymen's  Ma- 
trimonial Bureau  is  the  starting  point  of  a  good  plot  and  the  scene  of  lots 
of  fimny  incident.  Easy  to  produce  and  strongly  recommended.  Good 
tone ;  might  answer  for  schools,  but  is  a  sure  hit  for  amateur  theatricals. 
Professional  stage  rights  reserved. 

Price,  25  cents 
CHARACTERS 

Hymen  TBOUBiiE,  manager  of  the  San  Sherlaw  Combs,  Sleuth,  friend  qf 

Francisco  Matrimonial  Agency.  Buckskin. 

ScoTTYBucK8Kii<(,a  cowboy  from  Bar  Gwendolyn  Dashfobth,  niece  to 

X  Ranch,  Texas.  Colonel  Penuckle. 

Colonel  B.  Penuckle,  from  Pacific  Bostonia  Jouohnz,  friend  of  Owen- 

AtJcnue.  dolyn. 

Tf^TERD.Q.WvRVZfOfthestaffoftJie  Mrs.  Losta  Mann,  housekeeper  for 

San  Francisco  Daily  Yahoo.  the  Colonel. 

Dr.  Faunce  Rhinestone,  who  keeps  Cassie  Pauline  Skidoo,  an  author- 

an  auto.  ess  of  the  intense  school. 

Tessie  Tapp,  a  typist. 

Costumes,  modern. 
SYNOPSIS 

ACT  L— The  marriage  bureau,  Powell  Street,  San  Francisco. 

ACT  II.— Home  of  Colonel  B.  Penuckle,  Pacific  Avenue,  San  Francisco. 

ACT  m.— The  marriage  bureau. 


CAMILLE 

A  DRAMA  IN  FIVE  ACTS 

From  the  French  of  Alexandre  Dumas,  FUs, 
By  Mildred  Aldrich 

Nine  males,  five  females.     Costumes,  modern  ;  scenery,  varied,     r'ays 
a  full  evening.    A  new  acting  version  of  this  pcpfUar  play,  vith  full  »' 
business.    A  complete  working  prompt-book.    Strongly  rocommendea. 


Price,  15  cetds 


New  Publications 


THE  HOUSE  NEXT  DOOR 

A  Comedy  in  Three  Acts 

By  y.  Hartley  Manners 

Eight  males,  four  females.  Costumes  modern ;  scenery,  two  interiors, 
not  difficult.  Well  suited  for  amateur  performance.  Plays  a  full  evening. 
Tnis  admirable  play,  made  popular  for  two  seasons  by  Mr.  J.  E.  Dodson's 
striking  performance  of  its  leading  part,  is  offered  for  amateur  performance 
at  a  royalty  of  ten  dollars.  All  the  parts  are  strong  and  exceptionally 
well  contrasted.  Of  especial  interest  to  Hebrew  societies  from  its  able  and 
sympathetic  presentment  of  a  man  of  their  race. 
Price,  JO  cents 

CHARACTERS 
Th£  Cotswold  Family  The  Jacob  son  Family 

Sir  John  Cotswold,  baronet.  Sir  Isaac  Jacobson,  M.  P. 

Margaret,  his  wife.  Rebecca,  his  wife. 

Ulrica,  his  daughter.  Esther,  his  daughter, 

Cecil,  his  son.  Adrian,  his  son. 

ViNiNG,  his  servant.  Maximilian,  his  servant. 

Capt.  the  Hon.  Clive  Trevor.    Walter  Lewis,  musical  agent, 

SYNOPSIS 
ACT  I 
Scene. — Morning  room  in  Sir  John  Cotswold' s  house  in  the 
Cotswold  Park  Estate,  Kensington,  London. 

ACT  II 

Scene. — Drawing-room   in   Sir  Isaac  Jacobson's  house.   Next 
Door.     The  same  afternoon. 

ACT  III 
Scene.— Same  as  Act  I.     Three  days  later. 


MARRYING  BELINDA 

A  Farce  in  One  Act 

By  Grace  Cooke  Strong 

Four  males,  four  females.    Costumes  modern  ;  scenery,  an  easy  interior. 
Plays  thirty  minutes.     An  easy  and  entertaining  little  play  exactly  suited 
for  amateur  acting  in   schools   or  elsewhere.     Just  the  sort  of  thing  half 
way  between  farce  and  comedy  that  is  best  liked.     Well  recommended. 
Price,  /J  cents 


New  Plays 


MR.  EASYMAN'S  NIECE 

A  Farcical  Comedy  in  Four  Acts 
By  Belle  Marshall  Locke 

Six  males,  four  females.  Costumes  modern  ;  scenery,  two  interiors  and 
one  easy  exterior  that  may  be  played  indoors  if  desired.  Plays  a  full  even- 
ing. A  clever  and  vivacious  play,  full  of  fun  and  action.  Mr.  Easyman'i 
fad  of  spiritualism  leads  him  into  a  difficulty  that  is  a  source  of  endlesi 
amusement  to  the  audience.  Irish  and  old  maid  comedy  parts.  Can  bt 
recommended. 

Pricey  2^  cents 

CHARACTERS 

Mr.  Stephen  Easyman,  a  wealthy  Mr.  Sharpe,  a  detective, 

broker.  Miss  Judith  Carroll,  a  maidti 

Mr.  Carew  Carlton,  his  nephew,       aunt. 
Mr.  Tom  Ashleigh.  Mrs.  Easyman,  ")     her 

Jackson,  a  servant.  Miss  Bessie  Carroll,  j  nieces* 

Michael  Flynn.  Desdemona,  the  ghost. 

A  PAIR  OF  BURGLARS 

By  Byron  P.  Glenn 

Two  males,  two  females.  One  act.  Costumes  modern ;  scenery,  an 
easy  interior.  Plays  half  an  hour.  A  brisk  little  curtain  raiser  of  the 
"  vaudeville  "  type,  moving  all  the  time.  Easy  and  effective ;  all  the  part» 
young  people  and  well-dressed.     Strongly  recommended. 

Price f  i^  cents 

DANE'S  DRESS-SUIT  CASE 

By  Robert  C.  V.  Meyers 

Two  males,  one  female.  One  act.  Costumes  modern ;  scene,  an  easy 
interior.  Plays  fifteen  minutes.  An  excellent  short  play  to  fill  out  a  biU 
or  to  fill  in  an  intermission.  All  action  and  lots  of  fun.  All  parts  young 
and  well-dressed. 

Price,  i§  cents 


B.  VJ*  Pinero*$  Plays 

Price,  SO  gents  Gacb 


Min  rU  A KINI7I  Play  in  Four  Acts',  Six  males,  five  females. 
lTliLI-V/ni\ilii£<Li  Costumes,  niodeni;  scenery,  three  interiors-. 
Plays  two  ajid  a  half  hours. 

THE  NOTORIOUS  MRS.  EBBSMITH  ^,'ir'^^Z 

mules,  five  ft'iu.iles.  Costmnes,  modern;  scenery,  all  interiors. 
Plays  a  lull  evening. 

TUV  PPflFIir'ATF  Play  in  Four  Acts.  Seven  males,  five 
lIlEi  1  I\virLil\JrtlEi  females.  Scenery,  three  interiors,  ratlier 
elaborate ;  costumes,  modern.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

TUr  Cmnni  MICTDTCC  Farce  in  Three  Acts.  Nine  males, 
int  OCnUULlTlloHViLOO  seven  females.  Costumes,  mod- 
ern; soenery,  thiue  iiittriMr.s.     Plays  a  full  evening. 

THE  SECOND  MRS.  TANQUERAY  SgJt'-oTX.^S^^ 

females.  Costumes,  modern;  scenery,  three  interiors.  Plays  a 
full  evening. 

QWFPT  I  AVFWHFP  ComedyinTliree  Acts.  Seven  males, 
i3Tf£iEil  Liii.  V£iiil/EiA.  four  females.  Scene,  a  single  interior, 
costumes,  modern.     Plays  a  full  evening. 


TUC  TUITWnrDDniT    Couiedv  in  Four  Acts.    Ten  i 
inJCi    inUilULIvDULi     nine  females.    Scenery,  three  interi- 


Couiedy  in  Four  Acts.    Ten  males, 
nine  females, 
ors;  costumes,  modern.    Plays  a  full  evening. 


THF  TIMFQ  Comedy  in  Four  Acts.  Six  males,  seven  females. 
iriL  lllTlEiO  Scene,  a  single  interior;  costumes,  modern.  Plays 
a.  full  evening. 

THF  WrAlfTR  QFY  Comedy  in  Three  Acts.  Eight  males, 
1  nEi  IT  Et/\I\.EiI\  OEiA  eipht  lenial<'S.  Costumes,  modern; 
scenery,  two  interiors.    I'lays  a  full  evt-uing. 

A  WIFE  WITHOUT  A  SMILE  ',;r;r,S.I'.'.f^„'X,^,'.,'": 

Costumes,  mo<lern  ;  scene,  a  sinRlo  iiiii-rior.     Plays  a  full  eveniii;,'. 


Sent  prepaid  on  receipt  of  price  by 

Salter  ?^.  JSafeer  &  Company 

No.  5  Hamilton  Place,  Boston,  Massachusetts 


3^ecent  popular  ^laj^s 


TBE  AWAKENING 


Play  in   Four  Acts.     By  C.  H.  Chamijej: 
I'our  males,  six  females.    Scenery,  «ut  ditlil 

oult,  olii-'fly    iiitciinrs ;    costumes,  modern.     Plays  a  full  eveiiiii;;| 

Price,  50  Cents. 

Comedy    in    Four   Act.- 
Bv  h.  r(n,.sT()i.   'l\\enr\l 


THE  FRUITS  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT 

one  males,  eleven  females.      S<'enery,  <;? -vraeteristic  interiors;  co 
tumes,  modern.     Play.s  a  full  eveni    g.     ..leeomniended  for  reading 
clubs.     Price,  35  Cents. 

Farce  in  Three  Acts.   Bj 
K.   Maksjiai.i-.      Tei 


BIS  EXCELLENCY  THE  OOVERNtR 

males,  three   lemales.     (>)stumes,   modern;    scenery,  one  interior! 
Acting  rights  reserved.     Time,  a  full  evening.     Price,  50  Cents. 

Comedy  in  Four  A  cts.    By  OscAit  "Wl  LDkI 
Nine  males,  six  females.    Costumes,  modf 

interiors.     Plays  a  full  evening.     Acting  i  ight^ 

reading.     Price,  50  Cents. 


AN  IDEAL  HUSBAND 

ern  ;  scenery,  three  inter 
reserved.     Sold  t\> 


THE  IMPORTANCE  OF  BEING  EARNEST  ^: 


LADY  WINDERMERE'S  FAN 


NATHAN  HALE 


ce  in  Three 
Acts.  By  O.scAi 
Wilde.  Five  males,  foiir  females.  Costumes,  modern  ;  scenes,  twi 
interiors  and  an  exterior.  Plays  a  full  evening.  Acting  rights  re-j 
serred.     Price,  50  Cents. 

Comedy  in  Four  Acts.  By  Osca  i 
"Wir.DK.  Seven  males,  nine  fe-1 
males.  Costumes,  mo«lern  ;  scenery,  three  interiors.  Plays  a  fuUI 
evening.    Acting  rights  reserved.     Price,  ~>0  Cents. 

Play  in  Four  Acts.    By  Clvdk  Fitch.     Fifteen! 

males,  four  females.  Cdstuiuesof  the  eighteenth 
century  in  America.  Scenery,  four  interiors  and  two  exteriors.  Act- 
ing rights  leserved.     Plays  a  full  evening.    Price,  50  Cent.s. 

THP  HTHPH  PPTinW    Comedv in  Three  Act.s.  BvM.  B.  Hornk-I 
lUIi  UIULU  rLLLfUTT     Six  males,  four  females.'   Scenery,  two 
interiors:   costumes,  modern.    3'n>fes.sional  stage  rights  reserved. 
Plays  a  full  evening.    Price,  50  Cents. 

Comedy  in  Four  ActP.'  By  C.  H. 

CnA.Mr.i:us.  Four  males,  three  fe- 
males. Scenery,  an  interior  and  an  exterior;  costumes,  modern. 
Acting  rights  reserved.     Plays  a  full  evening.     Price,  50  Cent.s. 

A  WOMAN  OF  NO  IMPORTANCE  ;i''"lt?v',LS"KiX»K 

seven  females.  Costuines,  modern  ;  scenery,  three  interiors  and  an 
exterior.  Plays  a  full  evening.  Stage  rights  reserved.  Off  ere.  I  tor 
reading  only.     Price,  .50  Cents. 


Sent  prepaid  on  receipt  of  price  by 

5^altcr  l^.  isaftcv  &  Company 

No.  5  Hamilton  Place,  Boston,  Massachusetts 


THE  TYRANNY  OF  TEARS 


ILL   *,    CO.,     PRINTCRS.     MOSTON. 


PAMPHLET  BINDER 

Manufactuttd  hy 

GAYLORD  BROS.  Inc. 

Syracuse,  N.  Y. 

Stockton,  Calif. 


VB   320! 


^ 


iVi2024S0    f^o 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUFORNIA  UBRAR\ 


